


Injuria

by LittleWolfBird



Series: Innocence [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Westeros, Assault, Book cannon, Caretaking, Court Trial, Depressing, Domestic Violence, F/M, Gen, Legal Drama, Modern AU, Modern Westeros, Past Abuse, Police, Police Brutality, Police Procedural, Police Violence, Rape, Sexual Assault, Show Cannon, Slow Burn, Violence, WIP, Winterfell, Wintertown, Work In Progress, doom & gloom, hospital stay, like super slow burn, super long chapters, the north - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 110,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21749563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWolfBird/pseuds/LittleWolfBird
Summary: Five years ago, Sansa Stark hired Sandor Clegane as her personal bodyguard to thwart her husband, Ramsey Bolton's plan to hire for her someone less than favorable. Now, Sandor has had to grapple with being unable to save her from the real threat that lived inside her own house, that slept in her own bed. Everything comes to light when Sansa is arrested for her husbands murder but everything also falls apart.
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Sansa Stark, Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling, Sandor Clegane & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Series: Innocence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749562
Comments: 272
Kudos: 159





	1. Prologue: The Promotion

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 24/7/20: I've reformatted _Innocence_ a little bit because it is so much longer than I ever imagined. We are now nearing the end of **Part 1: Injuria** (previously known as Trauma). Soon we shall embark on **Part 2: *Title Unknown***. There might be a Part 3, but that is still to be determined.

The late fall weather had lately been overcast, rainy, and very cold. But for the first time in a week the sun had emerged and the temperature was just chilly enough for a something heavier than just long sleeves or a light jacket instead of the heavy coats and parkas needed before. Sandor slid his arms into his windbreaker and closed his locker. Even though he heard the lock catch, he tried the latch just to be sure.

He always had to be sure.

He didn’t trust anyone.

Sandor put his wallet in his pocket and checked his private cellphone. Not that he imagined anyone would have been trying to reach him. He had few close friends and even fewer family. He was right. No one had reached out that day. But before he put the phone in his pocket, he tapped out a few items he knew needed from the grocery store; toilet paper, vegetables, and dog chow.

“Clegane, you still in here?” a voice called out from the other end of the locker room.

“Barely,” he gruffed, wishing that he could have remained silent.

A young man trying to grow a beard popped his head around the locker bank. “This message just came through for you.”

“I’m off the clock.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To give you the message.” The young man held out his hand with a yellow slip between his fingers.

“I’m not taking that from you.”

“I wouldn’t be in here otherwise.”

“So then why _are_ you here?’

“I really think you need to see this message.”

“I work for this company because they value their employees enough to not dog us when we are off the clock. Guess what?” Sandor paused even though both he and the young man knew that his question was rhetorical. “I’m off the clock. I’m about to walk out of the building, go grocery shopping, and sit back with a nice glass of wine and a good book with my dog. Off. The Clock.”

“Just take the paper, read it, then give it back to me,” the young man insisted. “If you decide that it can wait till tomorrow morning, I’ll say I had missed you on your way out the door. If you decide it can’t wait till the morning, I’ll leave you be to sort it out. But just look at the message. Please.”

Sandor glared at the kid – he looked like a kid to Sandor – and sighed. He held out his hand and the young man took a couple steps forwardly. He gave Sandor slip and took one step backwards, waiting.

The tall man glared a moment before looking down and flipping over the slip. He read the message scrawled in neat handwriting – was this the young man’s handwriting or someone else’s? – twice, then looked up. “Is this some sort of joke?”

“No.” the young man had enough sense not to call Sandor ‘sir’. “I don’t know anyone here who would try to pull a prank like this. It isn’t funny.”

“When did you get this?”

“I wrote the message down, stood up, and walked here to find you.”

“How long?”

“Ten minutes, maybe fifteen tops. I stopped by your office first and then came here.”

Sandor took a deep breath.

“Should I ignore it till tomorrow?” the young man asked.

Sandor shook his head. “No. Thank you…”

“Willem.”

“Thank you, Willem. I’ll see to this tonight, but I will not take any more messages tonight – or ever again. Yeah?”

“Never again. Unless the boss sends another message.”

“Aye, unless the boss sends another message.” Sandor grudgingly agreed but couldn’t help admiring the spunk the kid showed.

Willem spun on his heel, to leave Sandor alone.

“Hey ki-Willem?”

“Yeah?” Willem turned back to him. He looked him directly in the face.

“Who said the name like this?”

“No one exactly…she just said her first name.”

“You talked to her directly?”

“Yes. She called down.” Willem looked abashed. “I didn’t feel comfortable writing _just_ her first name.”

“As if there are more than one with her name in this building.” Sandor muttered to himself.

“Anything else tonight?”

“No, that’s all. But let’s keep this between us for now.”

“Keep what between us?” his eyes twinkled.

“Aye.” Sandor smiled.

“Night Clegane.” Willem disappeared.

Sandor gulped and looked down at the message, reading it yet again, trying to process what it meant and why it was sent.

_Ask Sandor Clegane to please stop by my office before he leaves for the day. – S. Stark_

The boss asked for him by name. Not _his_ boss, or even his boss’ boss. The woman who owned the entire company - the woman who had built it from the ground up, had asked for him. But that didn’t sit right with Sandor. He knew that she didn’t _ask_ for anyone. She told. She demanded. She made a statement and it was so. So why had she _asked_ for him?

There was only one way to find out.

Sandor groaned and turned off the light as he left the locker room. He took back what little control he could and decided to take the stairs up to her office, instead of the elevator. If he was cutting into his evening off, he’d sure as hell take his time getting there. He climbed at solid pace, but not fast enough to break a sweat or shorten his breath. And it still only took him six minutes to reach the fourteenth floor. With his hand on the access door, he took a deep breath.

Everyone knew the way to her office. Whenever there was a new hire, they were led up here once a week for six weeks to have a meeting with her. She wanted to know how they were settling in; if they had issues with anyone or anything; how their private lives were adjusting to the new position; and so on. If there was an issue, she worked hard to get it settled or involved and delegated others to help settle the problem. It was made known that after those six weeks, that if her door was open, anyone could swing by at any time just to say hi, have a chat, or discuss something with the company. As a result of this practice, and others she’d implemented that solely benefited the employee, North Industries was known as one of the premiere companies to work for.

When Sandor approached her outer office, the receptionist was away from their desk and the door separating the inner office was closed. He looked around, slightly unsure of what to do. The floor was deserted. He waited a few minutes for the receptionist to return but no one appeared.

Swallowing his nerves, Sandor knocked on the door of the inner office.

“Come in!” she called out muffled but cheerful.

Sandor twisted the handle and opened the door just enough to poke his head though. He looked around, blinking rapidly, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the room compared to the brighter light of the outer office. Two lights illuminated the large office; there was a small desk lamp on in the corner and a large floor lamp on next to the couch. Its beam revealed S. Stark, founder and CEO of North Industries.

She sat in the corner of the couch, leaning heavily on the armrest, her legs tucked under her and her toes disappearing under her butt. She held a glass of red wine in one hand, swirling it slowly as she scrolled through something with her other hand on tablet on her lap. Sandor could swear he heard her humming to herself.

Not wanting to disturb her but wanting to find out what this was about and get home to his dog, Sandor cleared his throat.

She looked up and grinned. “Sandor! Please come in! It is alright if I call you Sandor, yes? I know I used to call you Mr. Clegane all those years ago, but it just seems to formal now.”

“That’s alright.” Sandor stepped in and closed the door behind him.

“You’re not just saying that to placate me, are you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Many people do, placate me I mean, because of my position.”

“No, I don’t placate people. Sandor is just fine. Everyone else calls me Clegane though.”

“Do you prefer it?”

“I have no preference either way.” He replied, coming to stand behind a wingback chair. He gripped the pack loosely, unsure of what else to do with his hands.

“Interesting.” She mused.

“I’m under the impression they are all afraid of me, ma’am. Somehow, they think that if they use my first name, I’ll go rabid on their asses.”

She smirked and looked over his broad, very toned shoulders, large ropey arms, and menacing hands. He had been on his way home, therefore no longer in his required suit. Instead he was in just a white tee that stretched across his chest and stomach revealing any flexed muscle, covered by a wind breaker that hugged his shoulders. With her eyes roaming over him, Sandor felt exposed. The idea didn’t alarm him, not from her.

“Hm…I wonder why that could be?” She raised an eyebrow, visibly trying to control her grin.

“Beats me, ma’am.”

“Ugh, stop it.”

“Ma’am?”

“The whole ma’am thing! Sandor, it’s after hours and you’re out of uniform, and so am I. We’ve known each other too long. Let’s drop the formalities.”

“Sure.” He said again. Sandor looked around before settling his eyes on her once more. “I just got your message that you wanted to see me.”

“Oh yes, I’m glad I caught you before you left. Please, sit down.” Sansa encouraged, indicating the same chair that Sandor stood behind.

He walked around the small side table and took a seat. Doing so allowed his eyes to fully adjust to the lighting and he studied this boss while she studied him. She was right, he realized. She too was out of her usual business attire. Her auburn hair was wet, making it look darker, almost brown, and was carelessly braided without a tie at the end, draped over her shoulder, exposed by the neck of a large tee shirt. He couldn’t see a bra strap. Her legs were also bare and hinted at short shorts to cover her lower half.

She didn’t say anything but instead clicked a few things on the tablet and turned off the screen. She sat it to the side on the couch cushion next to her.

“I hope I’m not bothering you, coming tonight.” Sandor fidgeted. Her stare unnerved him; and it was a sensation he was not used to. “The message you left sounded like it should be addressed tonight, rather than waiting till the morning. I can come back though, when it’s more convenient.”

“Nonsense.” She replied, waving her hand in the air, dismissing his concerns. “I was just at the gym, realized I needed to do a few more things, and realized that included speaking with you, so I took a quick shower and was reading while I waited.”

“That looked like it was either important or very interesting.” Sandor pointed to her tablet.

“Somewhat.” She conceded. “A report of the latest numbers from White Harbor.”

“Good or bad numbers?”

“About the same as last year.” She admitted.

“And is that good or bad?”

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen you unsure about anything.”

She looked at him intently. A minute lapsed before she said, “I’m unsure all the time.”

“You hide it very well.”

“Thank you.”

Sandor couldn’t help but grin to himself at the courtesies that were engrained in her very being from such a young age.

She sighed, “while the winter storms were ravaging the coastline, we worked very closely with the Manderly’s and their employees to implement better, more environmentally friendly practices of catching fish. We overhauled the boats and ships we use. We changed out the gear, the nets, the chemicals – we changed out everything. Really, the only thing that has remained the same since before last winter are the people, the workers and the employees.”

“You didn’t have to let anyone go? Even with such a massive revamping and upgrade in technologies?” Sandor was shocked.

“We did lose about a dozen or so of our oldest, long-time employees.” She admitted. “Though it was their decision because I gave them the option. The technology change was overwhelming, even for me and I try to be as tech savvy as possible. I realized that some of the older guys who’ve been fishing since before I was born – hell, even before you were born – would struggle to understand and use the technology in the efficient manner it was designed to be. So, I told them flat out, if they didn’t want to, they could take retirement now.”

“Didn’t piss off that some of the folks?”

“Why?”

“Essentially telling them they’re too old and outdated.”

“Gods, I certainly hope they didn’t get that impression!” she scoffed, horrified at the idea. “I gave them the option. They could keep working and see if they wanted to work with the upgrades. If they did, great. If they didn’t, they could retire when they wanted to. And if they didn’t want to even try to work with it – for whatever reason, I wouldn’t and didn’t ask – they could retire. All of those who retire because of this implementation still received full retirement benefits. Nothing has changed on that front. Some just decided to speed it up a few years.”

Sandor remained silent.

She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “What’s got your tongue?”

He paused, “It sounds like to me the fact that you’ve maintained the same level of production from the previous year, despite the major changes you’ve made, is a very good thing.”

“Is it though?”

“Is it not?”

She rubbed her face. “I’m worried that the new practices are not clean enough, progressive enough. Are we doing more harm than good? We expected and planned for a loss in production. If we didn’t get that, does it mean we’re still doing damage to the environment and fish numbers?”

“Perhaps it is a fluke year. Give it one more year and if the numbers hold the same, or even increase, then consider relooking at the newly implemented practices. But I still don’t understand why you were so sure you’d have losses this year.”

“That’s what all of the reports predicted. All of the tests and analyses expected some sort of decline, at least in this first year.”

“Reports can be wrong.”

“I suppose.”

“Are you really this concerned about this one report?”

“No, there are others.”

“Need to talk? Bounce ideas off of someone?”

She stared at him long and hard, trying to puzzle out what he was doing. Instead she shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to bore you.”

“I’m not bored yet, Dr. Stark.”

She rolled her eyes audibly and leaned over to the end table. She flipped a clean wine glass and reached for the bottle. “Would you like a glass, _Mr._ Clegane?”

“I could go for the wine, not the formalities, Dr. Stark.”

“Good.” She poured him a generous glass and passed it to him.

Sandor extended his arm and accepted the glass. He waited until she topped her own off then raised his glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers, Mr. Clegane.”

“I thought we had already settled on ‘Sandor’ and dropping formalities.”

“If you insist on calling me Dr. Stark, I will insist on calling you Mr. Clegane.”

“Ms. Stark?”

“Mr. Clegane.”

He growled. “Then what would you have me call you?”

“We’ve known each other a long time Sandor.” Her eyes twinkled, their blue shimmering in the dim light. “Sansa works for me.”

“Isn’t that a bit disrespectful for you in your position?”

“My position?”

“CEO. Founder. Everyone’s boss.”

“Why would it be disrespectful?”

“You’ve worked hard to get where you are. The forefront of your field. A trailblazer in the industry. One of the most influential and powerful women in the country – quite possibly the world. Allowing your security guards to call you by your given name seems a bit odd.”

“It wouldn’t be all of them.”

“That’s even stranger. What’s so special about one guard? What’s so special about _this_ guard specifically?”

Sansa took a deep breath. “That’s kind of why I asked you in here.”

Sandor sat back and crossed his ankle over his knee, taking a sip of the very tasteful, very expensive red wine. He waited patiently, in silence, for her to continue.

“You’ve very aptly described my position in the world,” she began, considering her words very carefully. “There are a number of people who don’t like my position.”

“I would expect not. Your smart and ruthless. It only fuels their hate more that you’re beautiful.” Sandor said before he could stop himself. It was too late to take his words back, so he had to live with it. He held her gaze for a moment before she blushed and looked down at her perfectly done nails.

“Yes, I suppose it does.” She paused. “All of those things, everything, causes my… causes Ramsey to get upset. He doesn’t like the…pressure I’m under or what is said about me.”

Sandor nodded. He had heard about her recent marriage. “I’ve been meaning to say congratulations.” It wasn’t a lie, but he also wasn’t pleased or ecstatic at the news.

“What?”

“On the marriage.”

“Oh, that. Yes…thank you.”

Sandor raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem enthusiastic about it, if I may say so, Sansa.”

“You can say whatever you wish.” She replied taking a long swallow. “I’ve always valued your honesty, even when you were a bit rude when we last closely worked together, for lack of a better term to describe our relationship then.”

“When was the wedding?”

“A couple of months ago.”

“You aren’t gushing or blushing.”

Sansa drained her half full glass of wine and poured another one. “It’s not exactly a marriage of love.”

“Then why marry him?”

“Family? Business? I don’t know. We were set up on a blind date by my mentor from Braavos Business Academy at the Fingers. – did you ever meet Lord Baelish?”

“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure, though I have heard of his reputation.” Sandor smiled but it never reached his eyes. Baelish’s reputation was not completely stellar, or unblemished. “Somehow I knew you’d go on from Kingswood College to do bigger and brighter things. Never thought you’d get into such a prestigious program though.”

“Oh, geeze, that’s so nice of you to say. Glad I had your support.” Sansa’s tone was chilled, but her eyes were bright and teasing.

“You know what I mean. Few _Westerosi_ get the opportunity to study at such a school. If anyone could, I’m not surprised it was you. And got the Gold-Spinner himself to mentor you. No wonder your business is so successful.”

“Lord Baelish has been good to me, yes.” Sansa’s eyes flashed and Sandor bit his tongue, wondering what it meant but not daring to ask.

“So, he found your husband for you?”

“Yes, a blind date and then that turned into another and another. I wasn’t really paying attention.” Sansa replied wistfully. “I was hustling for North Inc, as it was called at the time. I worked more than ninety hours a week, every week. I was flying, driving, walking all over the country to make this successful. Somehow, I was also dating Ramsey too – though I couldn’t tell you what sorts of dates we went on or when our first kiss was. Then we were engaged. I don’t know when it happened or what the setting was. It didn’t really register to me at the time. It was just something that was happening in the background while I signed my first contract with Deepwood Motte Logging. Then, suddenly I was walking down the aisle in the Godswood in Winterfell. Then I had a husband. Now I’m here.” Sansa motioned to her sitting on her couch at her office, at 8 o’clock at night.

“Avoiding him, are you?”

Sansa looked down at her wine and whispered, “Yes.”

He’d asked her once not to lie to him. She never had after that.

“Should I be going?” Sandor wondered, not for the first time, if this was not a professional sit down.

“Unless you need to be, or you want to. I still haven’t quite gotten out what I’ve wanted to, what I wanted to ask you.” Sansa chuckled.

“I can stay. I was going to drink wine at home, but I can do that here too apparently. Yours is more expensive than mine. Better tasting too.” Sandor replied, sitting back in the chair. The corner of Sansa’s mouth raised at his praise of her wine. He stretched his legs long and crossed them at the ankle. “You were saying that Ramsey is bothered by what others think of you.”

“Yes, yes.” Sansa said, trying to pull her thoughts together again. “He’s been talking about hiring security. I told him it was unnecessary. He’s insistent though. He’s terrified something will happen to me. I guess maybe he loves me, and that makes me feel all the more guilty, because I don’t love him. Someday maybe…” her voice trailed off and Sandor swore he thought she mouthed _or not_ before coughing politely. “The least I figure I can do for him is to put him at ease. So, I promised him I’d figure something out for security.”

“Things must be more serious than the news, or even the office gossip, let on, if you’re getting private security.”

“Oh! The security isn’t for the office or the business.” Sansa said, back peddling. “You guys do a wonderful job! In fact, the Reach has been in touch. They want to work out some training program for their security firm.”

“That’s impressive if the largest agricultural conglomerate in the country, with their fingers in other pots as well, are coming to you for help.” Sandor complimented. “You’ve done a lot in a few short years.”

“Thank you.” Sansa blushed, sipping her wine to give herself time to compose herself. “The security though, it’s more for the house. And for me.”

Sansa sighed and picked at the bottom hem of her tee shirt. “Ramsey took me to lunch today. He’s angry that I haven’t made any moves towards actually _hiring_ security. He told me that tomorrow he’s starting interviews for personal bodyguards for me. He has his top picks already.”

“At least you’ll be safe.”

“He had to take a phone call and stepped out for a few minutes.” Sansa continued. Now she couldn’t look Sandor in the eyes. “He had the folder sitting in the outside pocket of his briefcase. It was so easy to pull it out and glance through it. They were profiles of potential bodyguards.”

“And?”

“There wasn’t one face in that folder that didn’t give me the creeps. I will have to allow one of them to follow me around _every_ where, all the time. If I’m at a business meeting and I need to use the toilet, one of those men will have to check the restroom first, before I go in. And then he would stand guard outside the door until I exited. And I…”

“You what?” he prompted.

“I could believe that everyone in that folder would try to cope a feel.” Sansa deliberately avoided meeting his eyes.

If she had, she would have seen the anger in them. But protectiveness too. Sandor didn’t trust himself to speak so he flattened his lips into a line and waited.

“This guard, he’ll also be standing or sitting outside my office door the whole day. You know my open-door policy; if I had a guard at the door, no one would come in! The trust would break down and I cannot have that. Trust and loyalty between me and every single employee, those values are what makes North Industries a strong, solid, exceptional company.” She sighed, exhausted. Her head fell back against the wall. Her shoulders slumped and he could see the fight leaving her. “I do not want any of those men to know my personal routine, my life, so intimately.”

“Tell Ramsey to fuck off then.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Why not?”

“A divorce would soon follow, I think.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing, for you at least.”

Sansa shook her head vigorously. “I only found out this afternoon, after the lunch date, that if we divorce, a number of my assets become his. Including a chunk of my company; it will be broken off and then would no longer in my control. Fort Dread and the offices at Hornwood, and all of what they handle and control, would be lost.” There was anger in her eyes now. She fought to keep her voice level. “Somehow the mutual pre-nup contract allows him to get more out of me in the event of a divorce, than I do him. I don’t know I let this happen – I don’t know how I didn’t catch this.”

“Sounds like you had shit lawyers.”

“You’re right. I _had_ shit lawyers. They’ve since been let go and I am in the process of searching for and retaining new ones.”

“My, you have had a busy afternoon.”

“I might have to break out a second bottle to relax.”

Sandor smiled.

Sansa groaned and rubbed her face. “For someone from such an esteemed background – my family, my privilege, and my education – I sure was stupid about such a major factor in my life.”

“No, not stupid.” Sandor rasped softly, daring her to disagree with him. “Just busy.”

Sansa closed her eyes and smiled ever so slightly. She almost looked as though she was willing away tears. “Thank you.”

“What are you going to do about the creep that will become your shadow?”

“I was hoping that you’d become my shadow first and make that folder a moot point.”

Sandor’s eyes snapped up from her knees and he stared at her, studying her face. She opened her eyes and held his gaze, unphased. He glared and snarled, “What are you saying, Little Bird?”

Sansa grinned at her old nickname. “I had hoped you’d still use it, your name for me, even after so many years.”

“I don’t follow what you’re saying.” Sandor shook his head, trying to understand.

She sat up a little straighter and explained, “My logic is simple and brilliant, Sandor, if I do say so myself. I would much rather have someone I trust follow me around. Where do I get someone who I trust and someone who is loyal to only me? My own company, my own team, of course. That’s all I’ve been doing this afternoon, is pouring over employment files trying to decide who to ask. There are many good candidates. I’ve built my company with stellar employees and this evening has only shown me that more. But for the task at hand, I realized I should focus on who I have working in _security._ Even then, I kind of knew who I wanted before I ever came upon your file.”

“But what are you asking?”

“Sandor, I’m asking you if you’d like a promotion. I’m asking you if you’ll sign on to be my personal bodyguard and head of my private security.”

“You have a head of security. Jory is the best of the best in the business.”

“And Jory is retiring. He’s tired and slowing down. I’ve been looking for his successor for months but haven’t found a solution until this personal bodyguard issue came up. I want you for both positions.”

“Why me?”

“We’ve known each other for what? Almost a decade now? Longer?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotten old.”

“So have I.” She replied, shrugging. “I think I found a grey hair the other day.”

Sandor barked, laughing. “I highly doubt that, Little Bird. You’re not even thirty.”

“Be that as it may. I’m comfortable around you, Sandor. I got used to you being there when I was dating Joffrey.”

“I was there to protect him, not you.”

“But I was always with Joffrey, the stupid airhead of a college girl that I was; hanging on his arm, bending to his every whim. And you were always at his side, doing your job. We spent a lot of time together.”

“I didn’t protect you so well at those parties he threw.” Regret poured out with his words. Sandor wished she could feel how sorry he was. He hated thinking about the days when he pretended to be just muscles without a brain. He’d let Joffrey do whatever he liked, even when he was becoming abusive towards Sansa – and even when the little shit let his friends get abusive towards her as well.

“First, it wasn’t your job to protect me.” Sansa clarified. Her voice was earnest. “I’ve never faulted you for doing your job. In fact, that’s one of the reasons I hired you on at North Industries. You always accomplish your job. I’ve never known you to fail if it was within your power to make the job or project succeed. Second, and please correct me if I’m wrong, but I recall you protecting me on multiple occasions. When they tried drugging me – even though they botched it – and stripped me naked? You were the one to give me your shirt to cover myself. You wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth more times that I can count. You backed me up when I would backtalk Joffrey, convincing him that whatever I said was harmless or his idea, or something.”

“I never got you out of there.” His voice was soft, barely a whisper.

“You tried.” Sansa untucked her legs and placed her bare feet on the floor. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. She reached out and took his hand from the armrest, giving it a squeeze. The affection and gentle touch sent lightning through Sandor’s arm. He looked up into her intense stare and wondered, not for the last time, at the icy blue, mesmerizing eyes of Sansa Stark. Her face softened. “You warned me on more than one occasion to get out. I never listened to you. I should have. Things only got worse after you left his service. But hindsight is twenty-twenty.”

“I almost didn’t leave because I feared that would happen.”

“I don’t blame you for leaving and neither should you.” Sansa insisted. “I’ve wanted to thank you because everything you taught me while you _were_ there, helped me when you weren’t.”

Sandor swallowed and returned the comforting squeeze from her hand. Maybe it was time to ask something he’d wondered for a long time. “Were you really there when he died?”

“Yeah. He choked on some pie. Turned all purple and blue. His eyes were red and bloodshot.” Sansa shuddered at the memory. “It was not a pretty sight. The rumor was that he was poisoned. The official press release said that it was an accident, just a piece of pie crust and filling that went down the wrong way and caused him to choke.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think both are plausible. He certainly was dim enough to choke and die on pie. But he was also cruel enough and hated enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if someone did poison him. It wasn’t me, though his mother suspected that it was. I don’t dwell on it though. Because of his death, I was able to get out. I applied for BBA and got in. I left straight away for the Fingers and never looked back.” Sansa released his hand and sat back, sighing tiredly. “Now that I’m the one who needs protection, it really is a no brainer for me. Who is better to protect me than the one man who did that all those years ago?”

“I’m not convinced.”

“I am.” She insisted. “You’re not a drunk anymore. You’ve cleaned up, you’ve gotten your anger under control. You’ve even got loyal coworkers here who speak very highly of you.”

Sandor was shocked. “You’ve asked around about me?”

“Of course. I didn’t become this successful without doing my research first.”

“Doing all of this, this afternoon.”

She grinned. “I told you, it’s been one hell of a day.”

Sandor considered the whole proposition. “And you’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t be asking you if I wasn’t, Sandor.”

“Ramsey will be okay with this?”

“If you accept, he’ll be Lord Bolton to you – he’ll insist on that.”

“Lord Bolton?” Sandor’s tone was mocking.

“I know.” Sansa sighed heavily. “Now that his father has passed, he’s let the mostly outdated title go to his head. And, honestly, I don’t know. I don’t know my husband well enough to say one way or the other whether or not he’ll be pleased with my choice.” Sandor opened his mouth to argue but Sansa held up a hand and silenced him. “Let me be clear: I do not care. I do not care if he is pleased or not with my decision. If he’s being an overbearing asshole by telling me what I need and not allowing for a discussion, like couples in a marriage are _supposed_ to behave, then I am certainly entitled in making decisions too. And I choose you.”

Sandor swallowed hard. He nodded, accepting the changes that were coming at him, whether he was ready for them or not. “How will this work?”

“How many days do you need to wrap up any open projects or accounts that you have on your desk, at this moment? How many do you have right now?”

“Three.” Sandor replied. “Queenscrown is finalized and the installation is complete. Just finishing the final paperwork.”

“How long?”

“I’ll have that done tomorrow and we’ll get it signed and sealed and filed away within two days.”

“What else?”

“Torrhen’s Square is still fighting the Iron Islands in open court for property rights. The Iron born play dirty and that’s why I was assigned the case.”

“How long?”

“Court will take another couple of months. But I have a couple of guys I can assign in my place and just oversee the security from a distance.”

“If you’re sure that’s the best course of action. I know that Asha Greyjoy is a coldblooded businesswoman.”

“I would say ‘coldblooded bitch’ but businesswoman works too, I suppose.”

Sansa laughed. “I won’t disagree with that assessment.”

“I would like to stay involved, but just not actively. If you’d be okay with that.”

“I don’t see why not. You might get bored following me around all day so it would be good to keep your eyes and mind sharp by dealing with other problems.” Sansa said practically. “And the third?”

“The security of this building.”

“Is that something I can take you away from? I don’t want to put others here in the Broken Tower in danger just to make myself safer.”

“I think it would be much like Torrhen’s Square.” Sandor replied, thinking out loud. “I could oversee things while we are here in the building and there are plenty of skilled, loyal lads who can handle things when I, when we aren’t here.”

“And to get Torrhen’s Square’s and Broken Tower’s new teams into place and up to speed, how long?”

Sandor leaned his head back, calculating in his mind. “Two days to get the teams chosen, assembled, and reassigned. Another week or so to get them fully up to speed. And perhaps three weeks, maybe four, to let them do it under supervision. Probably a month total before I can completely become hands off and just work things through e-mails and phone calls with the occasional meeting.”

“Wow.” Sansa replied setting her empty wine glass down.

“Is that not fast enough?”

“Quite the opposite.” She laughed. “I was expecting six months, maybe four at the least.”

“We will need to be hiring more security for what we move around.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do – well, what you’ll do because you’ll be my head of security.”

“And you are sure about this, Sansa?”

“I only make sure decisions Sandor.”

“Except your marriage.”

She pursed her lips and glared.

Sandor wished he had not said that. The air was now tense.

Finally, Sansa took a deep breath. “I can’t be perfect all the time. I’m only human after all.”

She flashed him a grin to show that they were okay.

“How does this work then?”

“You’re accepting.”

“Yes, I am.”

Sansa let out a sigh of relief. Sandor was startled at how relax she became with his answer. “Gods, thank you Sandor.”

“What are you going to tell Ramsey?”

“That I’ve found my own bodyguard.”

“What are you going to do until I can start?”

“What’s the soonest you can start?”

“Probably the end of day, two days from now.”

“I’ll tell him that on such short notice, my guard won’t be ready for two days. He’ll just have to accept that. I’ve done fine for years without one. Two more days won’t kill me.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

“It’s true.” Sansa insisted. “I have two very heavy office days ahead of me. Meetings all day in this office or next door in my conference room. I’ll leave my house early in the morning, and I’ll be here all day, and I’ll return late to my house. This building is secure, you’ve insinuated as much. I think I’ll be fine until you can start your new position.”

“How early is early tomorrow morning?”

“What?” The question threw her off her train of thought. “Oh, I’ll want to get started about seven.”

“Tell your husband I’ll pick you up at six thirty.”

“What? No, you’re starting in two days.”

“I don’t want to give _Lord_ Bolton a chance to hire a creep for you, even for two days.” Sandor argued. He knew she wouldn’t protest with the prospect of Ramsey being able to hire a bodyguard for her. “As you said, you’ll be in the office all day, for two days. I’ll pick you up from home and drop you off again. I have to be here anyways, might as well ensure that your commute is safe too.”

“The lawyers won’t have drawn up the contract for you to sign until tomorrow morning, mid-morning probably. I can’t let you--“

“I’d like to see you _let_ me do anything, Sansa.” Sandor replied gruffly. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Stuck is such a negative word.”

“But it means that I’ll be making half of the decisions that involve you, and your half of the decisions need to be run by me before they’re finalized.”

Sansa crossed her arms and studied his face closely. “I was not expecting this to be so…restrictive on my part.”

“I’m the professional bodyguard, newly endowed with the powers of head of security. I think I would know how this job is done, and how to do it well and successfully, a bit better than you, don’t you think?”

“Fine. But I have to have a say in your half of decisions as well. I’m not helpless and you know it. This is a partnership. We discuss everything.”

“But when it comes to your safety and security, I get the final say. No questions.”

“For in-the-moment decisions, yes. Anything that needs to be planned out, we discuss things.”

Sandor grinned. “I think we might just enjoy working together, Dr. Sansa Stark.”

“Yes, Mr. Sandor Clegane, I think we might.” Sansa returned the smile. “Now, about pay…”

“Keep it the same, it doesn’t matter to me.”

Sansa’s mouth fell open in disbelief. Her eyes were wide and she blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what to say. Finally, she shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

“Then, pay me less than I am getting now, I don’t care.”

“You’re going in the wrong direction Sandor!”

“I don’t need a raise.”

“But you’ve just been promoted.”

“I don’t care about the money.”

“Ugh!” Sansa growled and stood up. She passed by his chair, slapped him on the shoulder, and grabbed a binder off of her desk.

Sandor watched her pale legs in the dim light and realized that, in the very near future and for the foreseeable future, he was about to see more of the woman than he had ever dared hope. More in the sense of time, and possibly more in the sense of stages of undress. He knew then that he was the _only_ one who could do the job right, and professionally, and keep Sansa safe. He was the only one who wouldn’t make a move on her. Even if he wanted to.

She returned and sat down, balancing the binder on her legs. Flipping through the sections she came upon what she was looking for. “Here. The last six years, Jory has been making $102,837 a year.”

Sandor choked on his wine as he tried to finish the glass. “I’m sorry, _how_ much?”

“Almost $103,000.”

“That’s almost $20,000 over the national average!”

“And how do you know this?”

“I remember things. I like facts.” Sandor shrugged. “Why on earth would you pay him so much?”

“To keep us safe, I figure I wouldn’t want him to have to be looking for side work. I want his attention on my company and my company alone. There are only a very small handful of my employees who work at a second job. They only do it because they want to. I make sure that I pay fairly and generously. People shouldn’t have to suffer just to make me money. And business isn’t hurting because people get a living, decent wage.”

“Geez.” Sandor had never realized the truth of her statement.

“You’re at $79,334, correct?”

“There abouts, aye.”

“Let’s see.” Sansa tsk’ed to herself as she flipped through the binder. She looked off into the corner, calculating something in her head. “No, $102 isn’t right for you.”

“Good, I wouldn’t know what to do with all that money.”

She hadn’t heard him. “How about $175,000 starting?”

Sandor nearly dropped his glass. Carefully he set it on the table and shook his head. “Little Bird, you didn’t hear me. I don’t even need what Jory was making. It’s just me and the dog at home.”

“No wife? No girlfriend? No kids?” Sansa seemed shocked.

“Haven’t given it much thought or found the right one yet.” Sandor shrugged. “The burn scars on my face don’t do much to help my cause.”

“I don’t mind them. I hardly notice them.”

“You did when we first met.”

“Yes, they are shocking and horrible, but it more bothered me more that something had happened to you to create such scars, than the actual scars themselves.”

“You’re a rarity then.”

Sansa blushed. “I wish I wasn’t.” She cleared her throat and looked down again. “Sandor, you will simply have to accept $175. I’m not offering you anything less. You’ll be doing everything that Jory does now, _and_ you’ll be by my side 24/7.”

“That doesn’t warrant more than doubling my salary.”

“I think it does.”

“How did you pull that number out of your ass though? Where did it come from?”

“I added together the averages of head of security and personal bodyguard salaries.”

“That should only be about $150,000.”

“And I added on an extra sixth because you’ll be doing both.”

Sandor groaned. “You’d rather accept a creep from your husband’s folder than pay me less than that?”

“Yes.”

“But you know that I can’t let you let a creep be your shadow.”

“I do know that.”

“You play dirty, woman.”

Sansa smiled. She set the binder aside and stood up, holding out her hand. Sandor stood as well. He looked down on the fiery redhead. She only came up to his chest and could probably fit four of her into one of his shirts. Sandor grasped her hand firmly and they shook on it.

Before she let his hand go, Sansa replied, “But I’m driving myself home tonight, Sandor.”

“We’ve already shook on it. I’m now your bodyguard. I will see you home.”

“No, one last night.”

“No.”

“How will I get my car home?”

“How will I know where you live?”

“I’ll give you my address and you have navigation apps on your phone. It won’t be that hard to find it.”

“Fine, one last night.”

“Might as well go crazy then.” Sansa winked.

“As long as you’re ready at 0630.”

“I spend as little time at home as possible. It’s so quiet and eerie.” Sansa said offhandedly as she brushed by him to her desk. She pulled a folder out of the drawer and handed it to Sandor. “This has my address, all my numbers, emergency contacts, gate security codes for the house and the garage, spare sets of keys for the house and the cars and the Broken Tower, and all sorts of other bits of information you might need. If there’s something you need that’s not in there, ask me or Jeyne – you can have whatever you need. I have included my schedule for the rest of the week and the tentative one for next week. I might be traveling then. Waiting on confirmations and invitations and all of the usual stuff. There is a visitor’s ID card for the gatehouse at the house; you’ll have to get a new one made tomorrow when you come pick me up – wear a clean shirt for the photo. Let’s see, what else?”

“Gods Sansa, were you so sure I’d accept?”

“No, but I did hope though. I had my assistant pull this together regardless because was going to be choosing someone tonight, whether or not it was you. I wasn’t positive.”

“Who was your second choice?”

“Tormund has always impressed me.”

“That motherfucker doesn’t have a tactful bone in his body.”

“Which is another reason why you were my first choice.”

“Good to know that if I get sick or have to take time off, you have a strong back up though.” Sandor replied.

“I’ve tried to predict everything Ramsey might say I need and get it myself.”

“Very smart. Will you need me to walk you down to the garage?”

“No, not tonight. Thank you though.” Sansa smiled warmly. “I need to pull my shit together. It’s late. You go home. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Nice and early.”

“Goodnight Sandor.”

“Goodnight Dr. Stark.”

Sansa grinned as she watched him open her office and leave. The door closed silently. She sank to the couch and brushed the hair out of her face. Her hand was shaking now that she was alone. She felt panic or anxiety snaking its way into her chest.

The clock said it was almost 9 pm. Ramsey would be cross that she missed dinner and worked so late. He supported her in her career, though he did expect a level of domesticity from her that she wasn’t sure she wanted to give him. She slipped into her tennis shoes and pulled on a sweatshirt.

Trying to drag on as much as possible, Sansa plugged in her tablet to let it charge overnight. Then she tidied her desk and put the binder back on the floor-to-ceiling bookcase. She left the two wine glasses and empty wine bottle on the end table. The night cleaning crew would come through and take it away. At last, there was nothing else she could do without sitting down and actually working. Conceding, Sansa picked up her purse, her gym bag, her phone, and her car keys. She opened the door and turned off the lights.

The closer she got to home, the more her stomach was in knots. She hadn’t realized how comforting it would be to get a personal bodyguard. Now that she had one, now that she had one who she knew and trusted, she felt confident that she was in a good position to tackle some of the problems that plagued her mind. As she pulled into the driveway, she sighed in relief when she saw that Ramsey was not home. She had forgotten he was away for the night to visit Fort Dread.

Before she fell asleep, she sent him a text: **Decided you were right. I do need a bodyguard. Nothing happened, just came to my senses. I hired one of the men from my security team at the Broken Tower. He’s a good, strong guy with a sharp mind and good instincts.**

Immediately though, Ramsey replied: **I don’t trust him.**

**You don’t even know who he is yet.**

**He wasn’t in the file that I know you looked at during lunch.**

Sansa should have known he would know if she saw the file. He probably left it there on purpose, for her to look at. She sighed. **I just wanted to see who you were considering. I don’t know any of them and they make me uncomfortable.**

**You’re not supposed to be comfortable; you’re supposed to be safe.**

**I do need to be comfortable and this isn’t up for discussion. I’m telling you out of courtesy. I’ve hired a guy so that you don’t have to. He starts part-time in the morning with picking me up.**

**Then for the other part-time I’ll get one of my guys.**

**You misunderstood me, Ramsey. He’s wrapping up an account at work the next two days. I won’t be leaving the office during that time. He’s picking me up and dropping me off. Friday he’ll begin full time following me around.**

**I suppose this’ll do for now. What’s his name?**

**He’s squeaky clean but feel free to run your own background check on him: Sandor Clegane.**

**Is he the ugly fucker in the building that I’ve seen? The one with the scars?**

**Yes.** Sansa knew correcting him would only anger him. He seemed amicable at the moment and she wanted to keep that for as long as possible.

**Good, it’ll scare people off and you won’t be tempted to fuck him. I’ll be home tomorrow for dinner.**

**I’ll have the cook whip up your favorite.**

**Goodnight, darling wife.**

Sansa dared not reply. She turned off the screen and laid back in the dark, relishing the time of being alone. Sleep came quickly once her thoughts turned away from her husband and towards her new bodyguard.


	2. Sansa, are you here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years have passed since the night Sandor became Sansa's bodyguard. But this night, something isn't right at the house...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm giddy for three reasons:  
> 1) I got more comments and kudos than I expected on the Prologue! Thanks lovely readers <3  
> 2) I just stumbled upon Table of Contents in Word and it automatically filled in the Chapters with page numbers in a hyper link form - this means no more endless scrolling to find my place! (yes, my story is that long that I felt compelled to do a ToC).  
> 3) I'm on a Rory McCann trip today, and his beautiful face is making me so happy (my Sandor in this story is /somewhat/ based on him, with differences too.)

**FIVE YEARS LATER:**

Sandor yawned as he drove up the long, winding drive to the Mansion.

 _The Mansion,_ Sandor scoffed.

Ramsey, no, Sandor rolled his eyes. _Lord Bolton,_ as he insisted on being called, had tried very unsuccessfully to name the estate where he and his wife lived to Bolton Manor. Sansa _Stark_ had refused the name. It was what remained standing of the original keep that had been Winterfell, nearly a thousand years ago. Some still called it Winterfell, though many times that got confused with the city that had grown around it. And Winterfell Keep that had been in the Stark family since it was built. There was no way the first daughter of the late Lord Stark

Sansa had brought the full force of her personal team of lawyers down upon her husband’s head. They’d put a stop to it. Legally, the house had passed to Sansa not long after her marriage to Ramsey, after her parents’ estates were settled and divided. As a result, _Lord_ Bolton held no legal ownership over the property. Sansa had told him that it was in the will, that only Starks can have a hold on the house.

Ramsey may have lost the naming of the mansion after his own family name, but he had also prevented Sansa from naming it after the family name. Why the damn house needed a name was Sandor’s guess. With little legal muscle, Ramsey flexed his power in other ways. Ramsey may have considered it a win for him, preventing Sansa from naming the house after the Starks, but she believed otherwise.

“Stupid bastard. Doesn’t know who he’s married to,” Sandor muttered under his breath, chuckling.

Sansa had confided in Sandor, one late night on the way home from the first company Sevenmas party he’d attended as her personal bodyguard, that she was glad no one could name the house. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to continue living in the house; it was her childhood home and sometimes it felt strange living there as an adult. It was as though the space wasn’t really hers and she felt like she couldn’t change anything about it.

Even after the years he’d been her personal bodyguard and the close friendship they’d built, expanding the strange acquaintanceship they had from when she was in high school and college, the sensible Dr. Stark kept certain walls up to him. This had been a slip of propriety severely aided by the homemade batch of Giants Milk that Tormund had prepared. Extra thick and extra strong.

Of course, Sandor had stuck to one small glass and then water after that. He was on duty and had to remain alert. Especially because Sansa was becoming intoxicated, _very_ intoxicated. She allowed herself only a couple of times a year to let go and lose control. The Sevenmas company party was one of them. On the drive home, he’d held her hair back more than once, on the side of the secluded forest lane, as she puked. He’d listened as she told him about the house and the husband she didn’t like; about the things she’d wish she’d done differently and the man she wished she had married instead, though she never got around to telling him exactly _who_ that man was. And he’d carried her inside when she’d passed out. Ramsey had not been pleased when Sandor opened the bedroom door and laid the sleeping beauty under the covers. Part of him hadn’t wanted to leave his post, even in the supposed safety of her own bedroom. She was so defenseless in that state.

Sandor sighed as he parked, forcibly pulling away from those memories.

As much as he loved seeing his sister, the short trips he took once a year to visit her at Clegane Keep were exhausting. His nieces were overly energetic, a complete contrast to the new baby boy she’d given birth to seven months ago, and he got grilled every other minute with questions about his life. _Are you still working security? When are you going to find a kind, gentle, and loving woman and settle down? I want to be an aunt! Find a woman who wants to have your not-so-little babies. Hells, you can have kids without a wife, if you wanted – surrogates or adoption is always an option. Are you happy?_ Coming home, even if it was just to the Mansion half inhabited by a man he despised, was always a relief.

He climbed out of his SUV and pulled the duffle bag off the back seat. He locked the car, careful to not make it beep. Doing so would only inevitably wake Lord Bolton and piss him off. The lord was temperamental enough without being aggravated at such a late hour.

Without much energy, Sandor crossed the courtyard and slid his key into the servant’s side door.

 _Ah! That’s right, Lord Bolton is not home for another few days!_ Sandor grinned to himself as he opened the door, suddenly in a much better mood. He knew Sansa would be too.

Inside, in the dark, Sandor hung his key ring on the hook without needing to look. Everything had a place in his life as well in the house. Sansa and he were very similar in that regard. He quickly turned off the security alarm and rearmed it for the night. He paused to listen to the house but there were no sounds. Dr. Stark must have been asleep. That was a relief. She had become such a light sleeper, compared to when she first promoted him, that Sandor dared not even turn on a light.

 _Let her have her sleep tonight while Ramsey is still out of town,_ he decided. _Gods know she doesn’t get it when he’s around._

Sandor turned to make his way to the servant’s quarters at the back of the house where he lived. After only a few steps into the kitchen, his boot kicked something across the floor, tripping him. It clattered and collided with other objects while he reached out for the counter. That only caused more raucous as more objects slid about on the quartz countertop.

“What the fuck?” He muttered angrily under his breath, trying to keep his voice low when all he wanted to do was let out a loud growl.

He stood up straight and, before continuing, pulled out the flashlight from his belt. He looked at the counter first. Cooking utensils were scattered, almost thrown about. Spatulas, ladles, knives. Everything that had a home wasn’t in its place. Sandor swept the flashlight beam to the floor. He figured that it was that pot on the floor he had kicked, sending it into a skillet and then a frying pan, each in turn bashing against another cooking instrument. Broken dishes and glassware littered the floor and counters. As he surveyed the room, he found two cabinet doors hanging on one hinge. A third was completely broken off. Spinning around on his toes, Sandor saw a bar stool on its side. The kitchen table had been shoved out of place; the chairs thrown about. One was broken, smashed, and laying in the corner. The wall above it was scratched and dented; the glass in the picture frame shattered and gone.

Soundlessly, Sandor slid his gun out of his shoulder holster. He raised the gun, one hand holding it and the other holding the flashlight; each stabilizing the other. He swept the rest of the room quickly. Almost everything was smashed, destroyed, vandalized. With efficient, light strides, Sandor crossed the kitchen to the doorway, leading to the main part of the house. He looked around the corner and proceeded down the hallway.

The china cabinet in the dining room had been smashed. With only a quick glance, he thought he saw blood on the shards of windowpane that remained on the doors. The living room was in much the same condition has the rooms he’d already seen. The couch cushions and several pillows had been slashed open and thrown around the house. In the main hallway, Sandor was sure now that he was following blood drops on the floor. At the base of the stairs, Sandor paused, looking up at each ascending step.

“Dr. Stark?” he called out softly. “Dr. Stark, are you here?”

He waited in silence.

Sandor had been trained by the best of the best in the army to be better than the best of the best. He could slow his heartrate on command, at will, to take a long-range shot. He could steady his mind and receive clear focus on the task at hand with no distractions. He could turn off his emotions and be the efficient soldier, or bodyguard, he needed to be.

Silence was the response.

“Dr. Stark? Tormund? Arya? Lothar? I have my service weapon loaded and ready. Do not be alarmed but please make yourself known.”

Only more silence greeted him.

Sandor’s heartrate began to climb. He felt anxious, almost panicked. The strange sensation settled deep in his chest. It constricted his breathing. It clouded his vision. He felt his sensory awareness of the house around him slowly start to slip away. He couldn’t control himself in the ways that he’d been trained.

The silence was alarming, was scaring him.

“Dr. Stark, if you can hear me, please make a noise. Tell me where you are.”

Silence.

That was strange. Something was very wrong. Sandor knew for a fact that Dr. Stark was home. She’d let him know when they’d gotten back from the business trip to White Harbor that she was taking a few days off to stay at the house alone. A mini vacation. No one had left the house; he would know. Her car was still in the garage. Only a delivery driver had come and gone early that afternoon. So, where was she? And why was the house ransacked? What happened to her security detail?

The seconds ticked by silently, painfully.

“Sansa, are you here?”

He’d never wanted to hear her voice more.

He asked, louder this time. He no longer cared if the intruder heard him. He was ready, he was prepared. There were few who could fight him off and even fewer who could get the drop on him. Only two men stood larger or taller than him and neither of them could be in the house now; one was dead and the other was north of the Wall. Sandor cleared his throat and tried again.

_Please hear me._

“Sansa!”

After a half a dozen heartbeats he heard it.

It was feint. It was muffled. It sounded terrified and small and weak and in pain.

Even then, it was unmistakably her voice.

“Sandor?”


	3. More Friends than just a Guard and his Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor locates Sansa. Help finally arrives. Sansa is hospitalized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Rape, Assault, hospital treatment post-rape/assault  
> (please tell me if I should have another TW listed)
> 
> Sorry about being a few days late - I try to post on Tuesdays but with the holiday this week, it didn't happen. So here is another long chapter! I'm finding, as I write this story, the lengths vary greatly. Thanks for the comments and Kudos!

Every fiber in his body told Sandor to run.

Run! Run to her. Go find her. Sweep her up and take her away to safety. Run away with her and never let anything bad happen to her ever again. Run and keep running. Don’t look back. Run to her.

But run he dared not.

Sandor kept his back to the wall, sliding up the railing as he placed one foot on the stair and then the other, crab walking up sideways. Though he was sure that no one was on the lower levels of the house, he wouldn’t risk it. _Never expose your six._ Sandor gulped halfway up and froze. The drops of blood he’d been following suddenly turned to a larger, darker smear.

He squatted and looked closely with his flashlight. The edge, the bit that looked like tiny drag marks, was probably from a hand. If his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, he could make out three, maybe for distinct lines probably correlating to fingers. Someone – his erratic heart and anxious nerves told him it was Sansa – had tripped and fallen here on the stairs. Or they’d, or _she_ ’d, been pushed and had fallen here.

He scaled the rest of the staircase quickly; careful to not step in the blood trail; the beam of the flashlight pointed down at his feet and the muzzle of the gun aimed in the same direction. He paused at the top. He slowed his breathing though it was more difficult than it should have been. Sandor listened for any indication of where he should turn. Which hallway? Which room? Should he climb to the third floor or remain on this one?

A whimper, barely audible, told him to take the hallway to the right.

He paused outside the master bedroom, listening.

“Help…”

Sandor reached out, the flashlight still in hand, and turned the door handle. The latch clicked but nothing creaked as he pushed the door open with his foot. He pointed the flashlight and gun away from the open door and leaned his head close to the frame.

“Sansa? Are you in here?”

A sob shattered the eerie silence. “San-Sandor?”

Swallowing hard, Sandor edged into the room. He swept the flashlight and gun around, taking in everything with controlled, precision analysis. Everything he noted was instantly forgotten when he saw Sansa crumpled on the floor in a heap at the foot of the bed.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to search the bathroom and the walk-in closet. Both were clear. Sandor swiftly knelt next to Sansa and felt her neck. Her pulse was strong, though erratic. He wiped the hair out of her face gently. Her blue eyes stared up at him in disbelief.

“Sansa, I need to go search the rest of the house. I’ll be right back.”

“No, no, no,” she sobbed.

“Yes, I’ll be right back. I won’t leave you alone for long.”

“No, no, no.”

Hating himself, Sandor stood and peeled his eyes away from her. He left the room and nearly ran room to room, floor to floor, sweeping through them, and verifying that no one indeed was in the house. The level of destruction seemed to be contained to the main floor and the master bedroom.

Satisfied, Sandor ran back to the bedroom, somehow mindful of the blood on the floor and to not step in it. He rushed back to her side, knelt, and dropped the gun and flashlight at his side. Sandor bent over and took her face in his hands. Her pulse was a little steadier, but her eyes were closed. She had passed out.

“Sansa? Sansa, I’m here. I’m not leaving you again,” he murmured; his nose close to her ear. “Sansa, wake up. Can you wake up? Can you hear me?”

“Sand…” she mumbled.

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” Sandor replied smiling. “Can you open your eyes? Sansa, I need you to pay attention to me.”

Sansa blinked, though never opening her eyes completely. Sandor muttered words of encouragement to her. He tried to be soft and gentle when all he wanted to do was shake her and scream at her to tell him what happened. Her face was cut up badly and caked with dried blood. Her chest too. Slowly she opened her eyes and tears streamed out of them.

“Sandor,” she groaned.

“What happened Sansa? What’s wrong? What hurts? When did this happen? Who did this to you, love?”

“Sandor.” The word was more carried on her breath than spoken.

“Where is security? Where are you hurt? Fuck, Sansa, what the hell happened!”

Sansa blinked hard, remembering. Her bottom lip, cut and swollen, began to tremble. More tears welled up and her breathing shortened. Panic or shock, or most likely both, slowly crept in.

“I…he…he…I…what did I…I do?” she finally stammered out.

“Shhh. Keep breathing for me. Steady. In and out.” Sandor instructed. He lifted the flashlight and swung it around the room. He stood and hastily went to her nightstand, turning on the light. Sandor blinked rapidly to adjust his vision and then gasped. The room was in about the same shape as the kitchen or the dining room. The only difference was the blood splatter on the wall on the opposite side of the bed from him.

“Damn it!” he growled, kneeling down again. He began patting down Sansa’s body, not caring about privacy or decency in this moment. “Fuck, Sansa, where are you hurt! What happened? How the _hell_ are you this lucid? Fuck. Sansa, there is so much fucking blood in here. Be okay, please be okay. Where the _fuck_ are you hurt!”

He screamed in frustration. It made his throat raw and scratchy.

Weakly, Sansa slid her hand across the carpet and touched his knee. “Sandor…”

Sandor took her hand in his and bent down to kiss her temple. “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m not…I don’t think…” she licked her lips and tried to swallow. Her throat felt painful, he could tell from the contortions her face made.

“You might be in shock,” Sandor replied. He pushed himself up on his knees and fished his phone out of his pocket. “It’s going to be okay, Sansa, I’m here now.”

He dialed the three numbers and waited only a second before he heard, “911, what is your emergency?”

“This is Sandor Clegane, I’m at the Stark residence on Wolfswood Lane.” Sandor had to swallow to keep his voice level. “There’s been an attack on Dr. Sansa Stark.”

“Mr. Clegane, my name is Dortheen, I’m going to help you. What condition is Dr. Stark in?”

“She’s conscious but she’s in shock, and from what I can tell in this moment, only superficially injured.”

“Mr. Clegane, what is your relationship to Dr. Stark? Why are you in the house?”

“I’m her personal bodyguard. I just got back from my four-day vacation a few minutes ago. I live in the residence downstairs off the kitchen. There’s a lot of blood, Gods there is a lot of blood.”

“Alright, Mr. Clegane, you have an ambulance and a patrol car in route to you as we speak. ETA at about twenty minutes.”

 _Why the fuck did the house have to be so hard to get to?_ Sandor wanted to scream.

“Do you hear that Sansa? Help is coming. They’ll be here soon.” Sandor said, bending back over and whispering in her ear.

“Mr. Clegane, you said there is blood.”

“Yeah, I don’t know where from.”

“Mr. Clegane, I need you to put your phone on speaker and set it down. I need you to thoroughly search Dr. Stark’s body for active bleeding. When you do find active bleeding, put a cloth on it and apply pressure. Your shirt, her shirt, a jacket, it doesn’t matter.”

“Okay,” Sandor set the phone down. “Can you still hear me?”

“Yes, I’m still here Mr. Clegane.”

“I’m looking now.” Sandor steadied his breathing and finished unbuttoning Sansa’s blouse. Half of the buttons had been ripped or popped off. As gently as he could, he ran his fingertips down her chest and stomach. He avoided the scratches.

“Have you found anything yet, Mr. Clegane?”

“Just, just cuts, lots of them,” Sandor sniffled. “From glass. I think she was pushed into the china cabinet in the dining room. It’s all over her face and neck and chest. Her arms too. Like she tried to shield her face.”

“How heavy is the bleeding?”

“Minimal, if at all.”

“Keep looking.”

Sandor nodded and placed one hand on Sansa’s shoulder and one on her hip. Carefully he half rolled her towards him so he could pull off her shirt and look at her back. “There’s nothing on her back, Dortheen.”

“Any heavy bruising, very dark and very concentrated?”

“No…” Sandor’s voice trailed off. “Sansa, where did you get this bruise? It looks to be a day or two old.”

Sansa winced as she tilted her head down, still dazed. “I…that’s from…White Harbor. The business trip we had …the other week.”

“Sansa, dock workers get bruises like this. You are not a dock worker.”

“It was from the visit.”

“Mr. Clegane, what is going on? I need you to tell me what’s happening.”

Sandor ignored Dortheen. “Sansa, stop lying to me!”

“It’s from the visit…when he made a surprise visit…it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Sansa that was _weeks_ ago! This has hardly healed!”

Sansa closed her eyes and shrugged.

“Mr. Clegane!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Sandor gulped trying to collect himself.

“What bruise are you asking her about?”

Sandor snapped his eyes to Sansa’s. She was begging him, pleading with him. He closed his eyes and said, “Dr. Stark received a nasty bruise from her husband a few weeks ago on a business trip. The bruise has not healed. I have one guess as to why.”

Sansa closed her eyes, tears causing the blood to rehydrate and smear across her face. Sandor’s shoulders fell. He _had_ to. He had to answer Dortheen’s questions.

There was a pause. “Mr. Clegane, is the bruise raised?

“No, it looks like a normal bruise.”

“Are there any dark bruises?”

Sandor shook his head. “There are no dark pooling bruises.”

“Then it is unlikely she has internal bleeding. What about her legs?”

Sandor froze. It was the first time he realized that, without her blouse that he had removed, Sansa only wore black panties. But even they were skewed and not sitting right on her hips and barely pulled up. They barely covered anything. Now the tears formed in his own eyes and he bit his lip.

“Oh, Gods Sansa,” he whispered. “Where are your pants?”

“I…” Her eyes were open again. Sandor leaned close to her face and wiped a tear rolling down her nose. She didn’t want to see the anger in his eyes, the pain, but she couldn’t look elsewhere either. “He, he took them.”

“ _Who?”_ Sandor tried to keep his voice even and soft. “Sansa, what happened? Where is Tormund?”

“Mr. Clegane, the ambulance is thirteen minutes out. Who is Tormund?”

“He was the bodyguard on duty while I was gone. I don’t know where he is.”

“He left yesterday…” Sansa whispered, regret consuming her eyes.

“What do you mean he _left_?” Sandor growled.

Tormund was one of the good ones, one of the better guards. That was why he was one of three he handpicked to replace himself when he wasn’t able to be Sansa’s shadow. Tormund wouldn’t just _leave_ Sansa. He wouldn’t just _leave_ his post. Not without calling a replacement. Not without calling Sandor.

“Where did he go, Sansa?”

“His deployment got moved up. He…had to catch his flight.”

“Why didn’t you call me, Sansa! I would’ve left my sister’s and caught the first flight I could! I would have been here earlier!”

“Mr. Clegane, is Tormund missing?”

“No ma’am.” Sandor replied. “It sounds as though his deployment for active duty got moved up about five or six days.”

“And what about Dr. Stark’s legs? Where is the blood coming from?”

“I’m still checking. But I…I’m not sure it’s hers…Dortheen, Sansa is missing her pants. Her, her panties…I…I think she might have been sexually assaulted.” Sandor replied, swallowing heavily. He didn’t register what Dortheen replied with.

Sansa started crying again.

“Oh, Sansa love, why didn’t you call me?” Sandor whispered, kissing her nose.

Sansa shivered and shook, trying to cover up her sobs. Anguished rolled through her body as much as the pain. Sandor took off his jacket and gently laid it on top of her. It covered her from shoulders down to mid-thigh. He tucked it around her, to get her warm, to get her safe.

He held her face between his hands and pressed his forehead to hers when what he really wanted to do was pull her into his chest and curl up in a ball around her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“I thought I’d be fine Sandor,” she whimpered. “It was only two days – not even. I wasn’t going to leave the house.”

“Mr. Clegane, Dr. Stark, was there a break in?”

“No, I don’t believe so,” Sandor replied.

“The gates were locked. The House was locked. It was safe. I was just…I never thought…” her chin quivered.

“What didn’t you think, Sansa? What happened? Whose blood is this?”

Sansa opened her eyes and Sandor saw, relief in them.

She whispered, “Ramsey.”

“Mr. Clegane, whose blood is it? The ambulance is 6 minutes out.”

Sandor kissed Sansa on the forehead and stood up despite her protests. He easily found the overhead light switch and turned it on.

“Oh, Blessed Mother Smith and Stranger!” Sandor cried out the moment he turned around. “What the fuck Sansa!”

Ramsey was, no Ramsey’s _body_ was laying between the bed and the wall. The majority of the blood was pooling around his bludgeoned face. His skin was pale white, like hotel sheets. His eyes stared at Sandor without seeing him. His pants were down below his knees.

And Sandor closed his eyes.

“Mr. Clegane! What is going on!”

Sansa was sobbing louder now. “I didn’t know he’d be home tonight.”

Sandor got low to the floor, next to Sansa. He took her hands in his and cupped her face with the other. “You’re safe now.”

“Mr. Clegane?”

“Dortheen,” Sandor cleared his throat, trying to keep it even, “Dr. Stark’s husband Ramsey Bolton is dead. By the looks of it, he attacked her, and she defended herself. Please send more help.”

“Limit what you touch Mr. Clegane.”

“Don’t disturb the body, don’t move things around, yes I understand. I was in the Army. I’ve got buddies who are cops. I know there will be an investigation. Please tell the ambulance that the gate code for emergency vehicles is 90-10-10.”

“They’re three minutes out.”

“Thank you.” Sandor kept his eyes on Sansa’s broken face, on her broken spirit.

“If I had known,” she sobbed, “If I had known, I would have called you. Or Arya! Or Lothar! Or a temp! Anyone. If I had known, I wouldn’t have let Tormund leave.”

“You should have called someone anyways, love.”

“You know I don’t allow myself to be home alone with him! He wasn’t supposed to be home! Sandor, he wasn’t supposed to be home! I had it all planned.”

“What did you have planned?” Sandor instinctually pushed the phone a bit further away with his elbow and stooped to put as much of his body between Sansa and the phone as he could.

“He’d be gone this whole week. You know how he hates the staff’s holiday week off. He hates cooking and cleaning up after himself. So, he goes away. Every year he goes away they day before they do and comes back the day after they do. He was supposed to be gone the whole time and, and, and--“

“Mr. Clegane, help has arrived. I’ll leave you to their hands.” Sandor heard the call end and realized there were sirens outside.

“What did you have planned Sansa?” he whispered, trying to comfort her all he could without tainting the evidence that was her body even more.

“I was leaving him. I was finally getting out.”

Banging on the front door caused Sansa to cry out and shake. The door burst open and shouts of “WPD!” echoed twice.

“He’s not supposed to come home! He’s not supposed to come home for two more days!”

“Paramedics! Where are you?” a female voice called out from the foyer.

Sandor raised his head and turned to the door. “Upstairs! The master bedroom!”

“I’d…we’d be gone by then, Sandor. We were going to be gone before he got home. I’d hide out and get my lawyers to file a restraining order and then draw up papers that allow me to divorce him, without losing a portion of _my_ company. He wasn’t supposed to come home!”

Sansa dissolved into hysteria as the paramedics found them. One knelt at her head and the other at her hips with Sandor between them. They tried to turn her on her back and move his jacket but that only made her panic worse.

“No!” she screamed suddenly with more energy than she had had since he found her. “Let go of me! Don’t touch me!”

Her hands lashed out, scratching at the medics with broken and sharp nails.

Sandor leaned over, much to the dismay of the medic trying to take her vitals and pressed his forehead against hers, blocking out the rest of the world. “Sansa, please love, we aren’t going to hurt you. I’m not leaving your side.”

“Please…” she whimpered, clutching his jacket.

The woman next to Sandor took Sansa’s hands and elbowed Sandor out of the way. She filled Sansa’s vision, with her black hair and dark skin. In an accent from outside the country, she calmly stated, “Sansa, my name is Talisa. I’m a medic and I’m here to take care of you. Do you understand?”

Sansa paused, her eyes flashing between Talisa and Sandor and back. Then, she nodded.

“Good.” Talisa smiled warmly. “This is my partner. His name is Rohar.”

“Nooo!” Sansa wailed, struggling then crying out in pain.

“Sansa! Sansa! Listen to me. _Listen_ to me!” Talisa ordered, pressing on Sansa’s left shoulder to keep her laying down. “I promise, Rohar is not going to hurt you. He’s only going to clean up your face and give you some oxygen to breath better. Okay? Nothing else. But I need to check the rest of you.”

Sansa closed her eyes and bit her lip.

Sandor sat back on his heels and held his palm against his mouth. He felt silly for barely being able to hold in his own tears. He felt just so helpless. And guilty. He was so consumed by his own thoughts that he nearly jumped out of his skin when one of the officers tapped him on the shoulder.

“Mr. Clegane?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s me,” he cleared his throat and wiped the corner of his eye with the heel of his hand.

“I’m Detective Whitehill. I need to ask you some questions. Please come downstairs with me?”

“I’d prefer not to leave her side.” Sandor stood, indicating his head towards Sansa. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively, as though expecting a blow.

Sansa now had a mask on her face. Talisa had lowered the jacket from her chest, and she was working together with Rohar to temporarily bandage the gashes. Sansa’s slender fingers were balled into fists at her sides.

“Sir, it would be better we stepped outside the crime scene.”

“I won’t fight you.” Sandor wanted to make that explicitly clear. His size allowed for others to think that he was ready and willing to fight them. That he was a violent man. But Sandor had worked his whole life since he left the Army and the Lannister’s service to dispel that assumption. And he didn’t want to be forcibly removed from Sansa, not now or ever. Begging the detective to understand he wasn’t violent.

“I don’t want to leave her. I won’t fight you if you force me out. But please, I’ll answer questions here. Just let me stay with her.”

Detective Whitehill nodded, opening his notebook. “It is my understanding that you’re the bodyguard. To Dr. Stark.”

“That’s right,” Sandor nodded. He kept his eyes on Sansa’s emotionless, except for her tears, face as Talisa pulled up his jacket back over her chest.

“So you are not related to her in any way.”

Talisa muttered something to Sansa and moved down to her feet. She began her examination from her toes up, quickly and efficiently.

“No, sir.” Sandor answered. “I’ve known Sansa since she was seventeen, when I was in the service of her then-boyfriend. We lost touch for a few years. I was one of the first hired when she opened up the security department at North Industries. When she married, Lord Bolton insisted on hiring a private bodyguard. She was not satisfied with his candidates and instead hired me. I’ve been her shadow all but ten or so days a year since.”

“You seem very close with her.”

“We are more friends than guard and mark.” Sandor admitted, not allowing him to tell his whole truth.

“Has Dr. Stark been attacked or assaulted in your time in her personal service?”

Sandor paused. “There have been…incidents yes.”

“Care to go into further detail?”

When Talisa got to the hemline of his jacket at her thighs, Sansa started to shake. Her terror radiated as Talisa raised the jacket. She felt around her thighs and hips but refrained from touching or moving the panties.

“Rohar, go get the gurney. She is stable to move.”

“Talisa how bad is it?” Sandor called out.

Talisa gave Sansa’s hand a pat before standing. When her back was turned and she was facing Sandor, she wiped her forehead on her wrist. Perhaps she made a pass at the corner of her eye too – Sandor couldn’t be sure.

“She’ll live.” Talisa said quietly.

“But?”

“You’ve seen the cuts all over her face. They’re filled with glass pieces.”

“The china cabinet downstairs I think.”

“I’d say she was forcefully pushed face first into it then.” Talisa said, looking at the detective instead of Sandor. The detective nodded and scribbled on the notepad in his hand. “And she’s suffered substantive blows to her body – all over. She’s in a rough state but I don’t see her being in any sort of fatal danger.”

“And the claim of sexual assault?” The detective inquired, as delicately and quietly as he could to prevent Sansa from hearing him.

Sandor rubbed his forehead anxiously and in regret.

Talisa glanced over her shoulder. “I’m not a doctor. I haven’t performed any sort of official exam, mind you.”

“Preliminary opinion waiting to be corroborated at the hospital then.”

Sandor held his breath.

“I’d say yes. There is substantial bruising and some blood, with perhaps semen – though without a test I cannot be sure. Given the state of the victim, the deceased victim that is,” Talisa indicated Ramsey’s now covered naked lower half, “I’d wager that he’s the perpetrator.”

“We’ll take that into advisement.” The detective scribbled again.

“As for her psyche,” Talisa caught Sandor’s eyes and held his gaze forcefully. “she’s beaten and broken. It’ll be a long road of recovery.”

“Will she recover?” Sandor almost didn’t want to know her answer.

“I suspect she will.” Talisa nodded. “Unofficially of course, because I’m not a doctor. She’s a strong, powerful woman with the backbone of a wolf. With the right help and support, she’ll mend. Though she will be changed forever. Women aren’t the same after an attack. You’d be mindful to keep an ever-closer eye on her, a closer security detail. She’ll appreciate it”

“I’m not letting her out of my sight again.” Sandor answered though his comment was pointed at the detective.

“We’ll load her in the rig and be off in a bit.” Talisa finished as Rohor returned with the gurney.

Rohor left the gurney in the hallway. He unfolded a blanket and waited for Talisa to pull away Sandor’s jacket. Sansa shook her head vigorously, her fingers tightening her hold on his jacket. Talisa tugged on it. “I want to give you something warmer.”

“No! Leave me alone!” she shrieked. “Leave me be!”

“Just let her have the jacket.” Sandor growled.

Talisa glared at him but acquiesced. “That’s fine. Rohor and I are going to pick you up and—”

“No! Don’t touch me!”

Sandor took a hesitant step forward, looking for a sign of ok from both the detective and the paramedic. Neither stopped him. Sandor went and knelt next to Sansa. He hesitantly reached out and smoothed back her hair. She didn’t flinch. She watched his eyes and he smiled weakly at her.

“They’re not going to allow you to walk, not until you have x-ray’s and tests done. But you need to get to the gurney, so you can go to the hospital and get the tests done that you need.” He took her hand in his and gave it a comforting squeeze. “If you won’t let them pick you up to carry you into the hall and to lay you on the gurney, then may I? May I pick you up, little bird?”

After only a moment, Sansa nodded.

“I’m going to slide my arms under your neck and shoulders and under your knees. Is that okay little bird?”

She nodded this time without hesitation.

Sandor slid his arms under her and easily curled her into his chest. He stood and placed each footfall where the detective directed him too. Sansa clung to his jacket and buried her face in his chest.

“Easy now, gently.” Talisa directed Sandor as he bent over and sat Sansa on the gurney.

The sudden cool sheet beneath her caused her to tense up and she cried out.

“It’s just the gurney.” Sandor replied softly. “Lie back now, little bird.”

Sansa allowed Sandor to push her back. He kept his hand on her head, smoothing her hair. She found his other and clamped on tight.

“Sansa, we have to put straps over your chest, hips, and knees.” Talisa explained, holding up the black webbing so that Sansa could see it. “It’s so we can safely carry you down the stairs and drive you to the hospital. They won’t hurt. They won’t touch your skin. It will be just a click, for each strap, to fasten it, and then there will be a light pressure. May I clip you in now?”

Sansa nodded.

With each buckle snapping together, Sansa jumped.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Talisa asked when she was done.

Sansa didn’t reply.

A second pair of paramedics arrived at the top of the stairs. Sandor was grateful that Sansa couldn’t see the two men. Talisa nodded to them but held up her hand to tell them to wait. She leaned over Sansa and made sure she had her attention.

“Sansa, I have two more paramedics with me now. They are men but,” she said before Sansa could make a sound, “they will not touch you, I promise. They are going to help Rohor and I carry you down the stairs. Unfortunately, police do not allow your Sandor to help – though he would be an asset with those muscles.”

Sansa’s eyes flicked to him for a brief second and he swore there was almost a smirk in her eyes – under any other circumstance there would be.

“Sandor is going to follow us though. Keep your eyes on him and don’t pay attention to anyone else.”

“Talisa we still have questions to ask.” The detective interrupted.

The woman spun on her toes and marched up to his face. In a low, fiery voice, she hissed, “Detective, your victim is _dead_. Mine is not. It is favorable for all and preferable to me, to see my patient to the hospital without having to sedate her.”

“He was murdered.”

“And she was raped.”

“We need to establish a timeline. We need to establish what Sandor found and when he discovered the victim.”

“My victim is quite clearly traumatized,” Talisa snarled. “Are you really that fucking blind, Detective? Or can you not see that she trusts him?”

“There is a…connection there, yes.”

“I don’t know about you, but I would much rather get her to the hospital with as minimal further trauma as I can. I say he rides with me.”

“As lead on this case—”

“I don’t work for you,” Talisa cut him off. “She trusts _him,_ and he is completely loyal to _her_. He’s not leaving her side. If you want to talk to him, drive to the hospital. Now,” she said before the detective could get another word in, “if you would excuse me, we need to be getting on the road.”

Talisa turned to the medics and they all stepped to a corner. Before lifting Talisa addressed Sansa. “Bruze is on your right. Colren is on your left. Rohor and I are at your feet. Remember, ignore us. Focus on Sandor.”

Sansa didn’t respond. Her gaze locked onto Sandor’s.

Talisa nodded and the four medics picked up the gurney.

Sandor followed them down the stairs at an agonizingly slow pace. They had to be careful not to step on blood splatter, while keeping the gurney level. Each jostle caused Sansa to cry out in pain. He wanted to tell them to stop! To tell them that he would carry her down himself if they were going to be rough about it. But he held his tongue. He knew they were doing the best they could.

Once on the first floor, they rolled Sansa through the front door. They carried her down the front steps and right into the ambulance. Talisa locked the wheels into place while Bruze and Colren stood back. Sandor climbed in and took the seat indicated to him by Talisa. Rohor ran around to the front and started the engine. Colren closed the doors and latched them. Rohor turned on the siren and they pulled away from the house.

Talisa got to work immediately and connected tubes and wires and sensors all over Sansa’s torso. For each new attachment, the medic was sure to clearly explain what it was, what it was for, where she’d place it, and what it would feel like. When the saline drip was hung and Talisa went in to stick her arm, Sansa jerked away as best she could and screamed.

“Sansa! Hold still. You need fluids!”

“No more!” she sobbed through the mask.

“Sandor slide over to my other side. Distract her. Take her hand and keep her calm and relaxed.” Talisa instructed. While Sandor moved, she chastised Sansa. “It’s only going to hurt more, the more tense you are. Pay no attention to me.”

“Sansa, I’m here.” Sandor said. To Talisa he asked, “can I slide the mask of, so she can talk to me?”

“Alright, but only for a little bit.”

Sandor eased the elastic from around her face, trying to be mindful of the gashes. “If you panic, she’ll make me put it back.”

“Don’t leave me then,” she whispered.

“They’d have to drag me kicking and screaming to get me away from you.”

“Did he kill me?”

Talisa’s head jerked up from her paperwork and she glared at Sandor until he replied, “Absolutely not. You’re down, sure, but you’re not out. Gods Sansa, you had me scared.”

“When I realized that he, that he had come home, I tried to call you. But he stopped me. He smashed my phone. And the landline. And the tablet. And the computer.”

“What did he do to you?”

“Sandor, I don’t think—”

Sansa paid no attention to Talisa. “He found me packing my suitcases. And then he got mad. And I had to kill him.”

“It was self-defense, Sansa. Don’t forget that.” Sandor urged.

“No one will believe me!” She started crying again. “I never reported anything that he’s done – nothing! Ever!”

“Sansa…” he began.

The ambulance slowed and came to a halt. The doors were yanked open and doctors faces appeared. Talisa pulled the necessary machines off their shelves and placed them between Sansa’s legs. Rohor climbed through the cab and appeared next to Sansa’s head. She looked at him wearily but remained silent.

Instead her eyes flicked to Sandor’s face and she pleaded with him, “Don’t leave me now.”

“I won’t—”

“They’ll take me away for tests. You said so yourself.”

“That’s necessary, Little Bird.”

“Promise you won’t leave me Sandor.”

“If I’m allowed to be there I will be. I promise.” Sandor took her hand and kissed her forehead.

As Rohor and Talisa began to pull her from the rig she cried out. “No! Stop, stop!”

“What hurts?” Talisa asked. “What changed?”

“Sandor,” she begged.

“I’m here!” he replied behind her. “I have to get out myself.”

“No,” she shook her head rigorously. She whispered, “No. Please, please no men. I don’t want men looking…seeing…”

“There are going to be some men,” Sandor figured. “I don’t think we can’t keep away _all_ men. But,” he saw the fear in her eyes and paused, “but Sansa I’ll do my best. Only women will, will… examine you. I’ll try to keep as many men as I can away. I wish I could do more, love, but I can’t. I will be there, that I can do. Okay?”

“Okay,” she nodded.

Sandor bowed to Talisa and they pulled her from the rig. They pushed her into the emergency room and Sandor followed along, calling out to her after every turn and through every door, just to remind her that he hadn’t left her. They found a private room and closed the blinds. Sansa was transferred to the bed and Talisa gave her hand a gentle squeeze as Rohor exited with the gurney.

“You’re going to be okay, Sansa,” she replied.

Sansa stared at her with lifeless eyes, not believing her.

“It may not be comforting, but I’ve seen worse. And I’ve seen those women come out on the other side. You will to. You have a good friend here. You’ll be alright.”

Talisa gave Sandor’s elbow a squeeze as well, as she whispered, “You take care of her, ya hear?”

Sandor nodded.

Then the doctors and nurses moved in. Though they spoke with calm, soothing words, Sansa shook. Her fists clenched around his jacket again. They never tried to remove it. Instead, they just shifted it around to treat her.

“Sansa, we need to debride your face and chest,” one of the doctors said to her. “We’ve given you some pain killers, but you might still feel it. It won’t be pleasant.”

She turned to Sandor, “Mr.…Stark?”

“No, Clegane.” Sandor corrected though the thought of the name made his heart skip a beat. “Bodyguard.”

“Best friend.” Sansa whispered.

“Aye, I suppose that too, Little Bird.” Sandor smiled.

“Well Mr. Clegane, you may want to wait outside for this.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“It won’t be a pretty.”

“I was in the Army. I’ve been in security for sixteen years. I’ve seen shit. This won’t bother me.”

“It can be hard when it’s someone you care deeply about.”

“I said I’m not leaving!” Sandor nearly shouted. He swiped his hand over his face and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. Don’t kick me out, please. It’s just, I promised her, you know? I told her I wasn’t going to leave her side until it was absolutely and completely medically necessary.”

“Alright then,” the doctor nodded. “Keep your cool and pull over a chair. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“Haven’t slept since last night,” Sandor replied. He pulled over one of the stools and placed himself at Sansa’s side, holding her hand. She squeezed tight and didn’t let up.

“If you’re going to pass out, do us a favor and prop yourself against a wall,” the nurse joked. “You’re big enough we’d have to have half of the hospital help move you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. But I don’t plan on sleeping until she does.”

“Suit yourself.”

The doctor turned on a bright light over Sansa’s face and leaned in. She had medical grade tweezers and a scalpel in her hands. Gingerly, she began picking at the glass. The nurse held out a tin for the doctor to drop the pieces into. With the other hand, the nurse dabbed at the small amounts of blood. When she got Sansa’s cheek, the doctor paused.

“Sansa, I won’t lie to you. This one is going to hurt. It’s a big piece and it’s deep.”

Sansa nodded, shakily.

“Mr. Clegane, can you help keep her still? I feel like it would be better if it were you versus one of us. Because of your size and more importantly, because you’re you.”

“Of course.”

“Gently though, I’m concerned over her ribs.”

“I won’t hurt her,” Sandor promised. He stood and waited for Sansa to nod. He leaned over the bed. Placing his elbows on either side of her ribcage, Sandor used the size of his arms like a seatbelt. He gently placed one hand on her chin to keep her head in place. With the other, he tried to rub comforting circles into her shoulder. Sansa closed her eyes and the doctor leaned in.

Sansa screamed and she fought Sandor, but he didn’t move. She kicked her legs and bucked her hips while trying to wrench her face away. Sandor gulped as he felt his eyes pool with tears. She screamed and screamed, and Sandor held her head and shoulders still. The doctor worked quickly and Sandor felt his heart break a little more for every wail she screeched. Finally, the doctor pulled out the shard of glass. She looked at it a second before dropping into the tin.

“Silk and needle,” she said.

The nurse passed her what she needed. The doctor leaned in once more and began stitching up what she could of Sansa’s cheek. Then she moved on to other cuts. When she was done with Sansa’s face, she picked back up the scalpel and tweezers and moved down to Sansa’s chest and arms. Methodically, she worked around Sandor’s arms, prompting him to move only when she absolutely needed him to. Finally, she sat her tools down.

“Gauze,” she said. The nurse passed her a wad and the doctor pressed it into Sansa’s cheek, which was still bleeding consistently. “It’s out Sansa. It’s all out. That was the last of the glass. Mr. Clegane, you can let go of her now.”

Sandor started to pull away, but Sansa cried out, “No!”

“I’m just sitting down,” he replied softly.

“Don’t let me go Sandor,” she whispered, begging.

“How about this?” Sandor sat but kept one had in her hair and the other rubbing her arm.

Sansa nodded.

The doctor taped the last bandage to her face. “We’ll go for x-rays now and I want an MRI for your abdomen to rule out internal bleeding. You’re not showing signs of it, but it is evident that you were beaten hard.”

Sansa closed her eyes.

“I want to run everything that I can now, to prevent any more pain in the future,” the doctor explained. “Mr. Clegane will not be able to be in the room with you for the MRI. But I’m writing explicit orders that he can talk to you over the intercom – it’s the best we can do.”

“And the x-rays?” Sandor wondered.

“We’ll gown you up in lead and you’ll have to stand behind a screen while the images are actually being taken but in between, you can step out and be next to her.”

“We’ll make do with what you allow,” Sandor replied kindly. “Thank you, really.”

“After the tests, Sansa,” the doctor said addressing her patient once more, “we will have to complete the rape kit.”

Sansa ground her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. Sandor rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Mr. Clegane can sit with you, if you’d wish. It’s a little unorthodox but it is an exception we make. Myself and nurse Alara will be conducting the examination.”

When Sansa made no acknowledgement, Sandor replied, “Thank you.”

The x-ray’s and MRI went on without a hitch. Sandor walked beside the bed, holding Sansa’s hand as they were led back to the private room. Her eyes were unseeing, almost glassed over. Sandor had seen that look before, had seen that look on her face before, too many times; she was disassociating, disappearing into another place. Outside of the room, the detective and his partner were waiting.

Sandor let go of Sansa’s hand only long enough to let her go through the door. He wheeled around and pointed a finger at the detective. “You stay outside. So much as open the door, and you won’t be very happy.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Clegane?”

“It’s a promise, detective. Dr. Stark isn’t in her right mind I don’t want you messing it up even more. The doctor will let you know when you can come in and ask your questions.”

“Fine.”

Sandor closed the door and made sure there was a covering over the windows. He took a seat at the head of the bed and leaned over. He placed his head on the pillow, upside down, next to her, his nose close to her ear. He smoothed down her hair and gently laid his arm over her chest.

She held his arm tight against her as the doctor and nurse propped her legs up after pulling off her panties. They went into an evidence bag. As did every swab potential evidence sample. Sansa whimpered and tried to hold in her cries as they worked. Sandor didn’t know what to say, so he just murmured things like, “I’m here” and “it’s almost over” and “you’re okay, you’re safe”. Mostly he just let his presence be the comfort, the weight of his arm, his breath on her ear, the way his calloused hands slid through her thick, orange hair.

After a long time, though Sandor had no way to accurately check how long they had been there in that harrowing examination, the nurse gently lowered Sansa’s legs, tucking the blanket around them. The doctor took off her gloves and split all of the evidence bags between two boxes. She sealed the boxes, signed the tops, and opened the door.

“Detective, here is your kit. Mine will go in our archives of course.”

“Thank you, doctor.” The detective passed it to the officer who was now with him. “Take this to the lab right away.”

“yes sir.”

“Doctor, may we speak with her now?”

“No.” the doctor replied bluntly. “She’ll be moved to a private room upstairs and sedated. She needs sleep, detective. She needs rest.”

“Then please ask Mr. Clegane to step outside so we can talk.”

“When Dr. Stark is unconscious in her room, then you can speak with him.”

“He is not injured.”

“You’re right. But he’s the only thing keeping her from a full breakdown. You will wait a bit longer.”

“When you get her settled, provide Mr. Clegane with a set of scrubs to change into. We need his clothes and shoes for testing and analysis.”

“You’ll have it before we move upstairs.” The doctor said. She picked up the second box and left the room.

“Please strip, even your small clothes and place everything, socks included, into this bag. Shoes in this one. These scrubs should fit you.” The nurse said, handing things to Sandor.

Sandor quickly changed, being sure to stay out of Sansa’s line of sight. He passed the bags to the nurse who gave them to the detective. She propped the door open and unlocked the bed wheels. Sandor grabbed Sansa’s hand as they left the room. They took the elevator for the fifth floor. A second nurse joined them and led them to a small, secluded hallway through a set of pass doors. The detectives didn’t follow them through.

“What wing is this?”

The second nurse looked at him suspiciously. “Domestic violence and rape recovery.”

“I didn’t know it was a big enough problem to warrant its own hallway.”

“We have eight rooms. Are you the husband?”

“Bodyguard.” Sandor replied at the same time the nurse from the emergency department replied, “Best friend.”

“So not the sicko?”

“No ma’am. If she hadn’t handled the sicko before I got there, I would have. I was on vacation for the holiday – just got back. Otherwise I would have been here.”

“You’re here now. She needs support.” The second nurse replied as the two of them situated Sansa into her room.

The doctor came in and injected a syringe into Sansa’s IV. “Mr. Clegane, she’ll not be waking anytime soon. You’d best go answer the detective’s questions now.”

“Aye. I’ve put it off long enough.” Sandor agreed, following her into the hallway.

“This is Nurse Selna. She’ll be Sansa’s primary nurse. You listen to what she says. I’ll be back to check on her in a few hours. Page me if you need me, Selna.”

At the nurses’ station Selna whirled around on Sandor. “Boyfriend or husband?”

“What? Husband.” Sandor said, trying to figure out what her point was.

“Do we have to worry about him trying to get in here?”

“No. Like I said, she took care of him. Wish she didn’t have to, but she fought for her life. And he lost his.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad.”

“I hate liars.”

“We’ll get along just fine then.” Selna smiled. She handed him a key card. “Do not lose this or you’ll never get into this ward again. Now get going. Best not be away too long. Answer the questions and get some food. I’ll try and have a cot for you when you get back.”

“Thank you.” Sandor replied, pocketing the key card into his wallet. He signed and stepped out into the waiting room. He sank into a chair next to the detective and waited for him to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys find a mistake or inconsistency, please let me know! I'll update it.
> 
> I'll be posting the next chapter on Tuesday as usual. Until then, Much love and Happy New Year!


	4. Puppy Dog and Little Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor calls Arya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you spot my punny cleverness?
> 
> Also, SCHÖNES NEUE JAHR my lovely readers and kudos-givers. I hope you have a wonderful 2020. I'm starting this year with a surprisingly good, bright mood and hopefully will carry it forward with me. I'm going to focus on cleaning up my body (by the old gods and the new, it's in rough shape).

“Arya, talk.”

“It’s Sandor.”

“I know, I do have caller ID on my _smart_ phone.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Pause.

“You sound rough, big guy. Rougher than normal.”

“I’m sure I look like it too.”

“So, what’s up, Puppy Dog?”

“What are you doing right now?”

“About to shower. Just got done with training. Gendry, Hot Pie, and I are going out for drinks tonight. Celebrating the opening of Hot Pie’s bakery.”

“Fuck, when was that?”

“Today.”

“How’d it go? I meant to have my sister swing by and get something for my nieces.”

“It went really well. Why didn’t you?”

“Shit hit the fan. I forgot to remind her. Where are you right now?”

“The training facility.”

“Which one?”

“Riverrun right now. Tomorrow I go to the Water Gardens.”

“How fast can you get to Winterfell?”

Pause.

“Sandor, what is this really about?”

“Have you talked to Sansa lately?”

“Puppy Dog… I’m a cold-hearted killer. I train people to be cold-blooded killers. But you are my sister’s bodyguard. With you asking what you are, well you’re fucking scaring me.”

“Answer the question.”

“I spoke to her last weekend. She said she was excited for the holiday week. Ramsey was going out of town and all the staff get their vacation. She loves having the house to herself – always has.”

“If only you knew how much.”

Pause.

“Sandor, _you_ have heard from my sister lately, right?”

“Yes.”

“Just figured I’d ask.”

“Are you around weapons right now?”

“No, I’m standing _stark_ naked in the locker room.”

“You don’t have knives or guns or anything around?”

“No.”

“Is anyone else around?”

“Damn it! No! I’m fucking alone Sandor Clegane. Tell me what the hell you’re talking about!”

“How fast can you get to Winterfell?”

“If I left after my shower and drove all day without stopping? I can be there tomorrow afternoon? So early, early morning, the day after tomorrow, realistically.”

“And if you flew?”

“Afternoon? Or evening sometime, at the latest, depending on when flights are leaving and how the autumn storms are between here and there”

“Arya, you should get on a plane.”

“Sandor…”

“Arya, your sister was attacked last night.”

Pause.

“Seven hells! Ya think you could have fucking led with that! …I’m in the shower now – you’re on speakerphone…What the fuck happened Sandor? How bad is it? Why didn’t you _fucking_ call me sooner!”

“This is the first chance I’ve had to call anyone! She’s alive, she’s going to make a full recover. She might have some scars, but she’ll live.”

“Gods, where were you? What the fuck happened?”

“I’ll explain everything to you when you get here. Just get here. I’ve got to sleep at some point and I’ve already been awake for thirty hours. Maybe longer.”

“Have you called Ramsey? Is he on the way? He was on vacation this week. I don’t know where. When is he getting there?”

“Shit.”

“Shit _what_ Sandor Clegane?”

Pause.

“Sandor Clegane, did you fucking forget to call her _husband?”_

“You don’t know, do you? She never told you?”

“Told me what?”

“I guess I’ll explain everything now then.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Pause.

“Ramsey beat her.”

“That’s not something to joke about.”

“I’m not joking. He’s beat her for years.”

“Fucking liar.”

“Before last night, if you told her that I told you, I’m sure she’d deny everything. But now? …she can’t deny things anymore.”

“There was _never_ any indication.”

“I don’t think she told anyone. Ever. She never _told_ me. I just…I’m her shadow. I knew about it. I saw the results. I know about everything. I saw everything.”

“Are you telling me that my good brother, who until about thirty seconds ago I thought was an okay guy, if anything just very weird, was the one who attacked my sister, his wife?”

“Yes.”

“And my strong, stubborn, doesn’t-take-no-for-an-answer sister has let this go on, without telling anyone, for years?”

“That is exactly what I am saying.”

“Have you sent the cops after him yet?”

“Don’t need to – he’s dead.”

“You?”

“I wish. But no.”

“Who then? Sansa?”

“Yes.”

“She’s hardly got a violent bone in her body!”

“I don’t think she had a choice.”

“When you said attacked…”

“I mean assaulted. I mean she fought for her life. She had to. It was her or him.”

“Fuck.”

“She’s not going to be taking that part well either.”

“I should hope not! She’s the human one of the three of us. She’s the _good_ one, the pure one. She’s the saint amongst sinners.”

“…The angel among devils…”

Pause.

“Sandor, don’t let anything else happen to her.”

“I’m kicking myself enough already. I’ll never rest again if it means she’s safe.”

“Please, she’s my sister.”

“I’m doing everything I can.”

“Thank you.”

“But I need your help, Arya. I can’t keep myself away much longer.”

“Well, I’m at my bike and on the way to the airport now. I’ll call you when I land.”

“Drive safe. I’ll call your brother if you’d like.”

“That’s a good idea. Thank you.”

“See you soon, Little Wolf.”

“You too Puppy Dog.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write this as a normal chapter but I found I like the simple format of just the dialogue with no direct point of view. Whatcha think?


	5. Never Fear, Robby's Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor calls Robb, Jeyne, and the lawyers. Maybe now the bodyguard will rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previous Chapter Summary: Sandor calls Arya and informs her of what happened.
> 
> RTI = Riverrun-Trident International Airport  
> WFI = Winterfell International Airport  
> WIA = Westeros Intelligence Agency

Sandor slipped his phone into his pocket and poked his head in the room. Sansa was still sleeping. He took a deep breath and walked to her side. He sat in the chair and gingerly took her hand in both of his. She didn’t stir but the machines beeped steadily at her head. Anxious and filled with panic, or rage, he wasn’t sure which, Sandor threatened to lash out at any moment. But at who? No one was there threatening her. To preoccupy his mind, Sandor stood and fidgeted with his jacket, tucking it in closer around Sansa.

That morning, he had called his best friend Bronn after the detectives had questioned him for close to an hour and a half. Bronn brought him a change of clothes to get out of the too tight and ill-fitting scrubs, his phone charger, and two jackets. One Sandor kept for himself. The second, he’d traded out for his bloody one that Sansa still clutched. He’d put it in an evidence bag and given it to the nurse. Sansa still clutched his jacket close to her, burying her nose in the collar.

Content that Sansa wouldn’t know he wasn’t in the room, Sandor stepped back into the hall. His next phone call was to Jeyne, Sansa’s personal assistant.

“Poole, it’s Sandor.”

“Welcome back!” she replied cheerfully after a few rings, when she answered her desk phone. “How was your trip?”

“Noisy as usual. The older the kids get the louder they get too.”

“Still the jungle gym?”

“I doubt I’ll ever stop being one.”

“You’ll get to the stage where the girls won’t want to wrestle like that anymore.”

“I hope not.”

“Maybe they’ll surprise us and be more like you and not little ladies,” Jeyne laughed. “Bet the new nephew is adorable though.”

“He’s alright.”

“Yeah? Just alright?”

“He can’t do one godsdamned _thing_ by himself except stick my fingers into his mouth,” Sandor complained. “Unless he was leaning against my body, I had to support his chest the whole time. All he wanted to do was suckle my fingers and watch what everyone else was doing. I’m pretty sure I’ll have permanent prunes for fingers by the time he teethes.”

“Babies do what babies are going to do. When you come in, I expect to see all of the photos you took – and don’t deny you didn’t. We all know you adore him.”

“Yeah, I kinda do.” Sandor couldn’t hide that fact.

“And the nieces too – I want to see the whole trip in photos.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Speaking of which, when is Dr. S. coming in? It’s a bit strange; I haven’t heard from her this morning and I was under the impression she’d be in for at least few hours today.”

“That’s why I’m calling, Jeyne.” Sandor squeezed his eyes shut. “Dr. Stark won’t be coming in today.”

“Oh cool, no problem. Did she get the stomach bug that’s been flying around the building?”

Sandor was infinitely glad for his and Jeyne’s friendly relationship, let alone the close relationship between Sansa and her, and Jeyne’s naturally unquestioning personality. She only asked the bare minimum questions. Besides, this wasn’t the first time that Sandor had called her on behalf of Sansa. Sometimes he was her second assistant.

“Not exactly…”

“Well tell her to feel better.”

“I will.”

“You be careful though – you can’t be getting sick either. You know how Dr. S is anxious when she has to use anyone else but you.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

“Just cause you’re strong doesn’t mean you can’t get sick too, Sandor.”

“That’s not what I meant…” Sandor swallowed, “Sansa’s gonna be out for at least a week.”

“Oh wow, that bad huh?”

“Something like that.”

“Keep her at home until she’s 100% better – you know how my immune system is shot.”

“I’ll do my best,” Sandor chuckled. “Oh! Hey Jeyne?”

“Shoot.”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Always big guy.”

“I need you to get me the phone number for Dr. Stark’s lawyers.”

“Ooooh, I don’t know, Sandor. You know that number is a carefully guarded commodity. It’s a client-only direct line. That’s something that I can’t do as a favor.”

“But what if I’m calling on behalf of the client?”

Jeyne paused. “Sandor, is Dr. S. okay?”

“She’ll be fine,” Sandor hated lying, even if it were a half lie: “She’s lost her voice, that’s all. But something’s come up and needs to meet with them today.”

“I’m going to pointedly ignore that ‘something has come up that needs immediate legal representation’ comment, even though that’s scaring me, because Dr. S has a private life, just like me. But know this: I’m going to worry Sandor, until I see her again.” Jeyne said snidely. “And I’m not sure if I’m allowed to give you the number even in this situation, Sandor. Even if she’s the one who needs them. I’m really sorry. It’s such an important, powerful number. They’ve worked really hard to keep it out of the public’s reach.”

“I understand Jeyne, don’t feel bad,” Sandor said, disappointed. “Is there a number you _can_ give me?”

“Sure, but it’s the general firm line with an extension to their division. I’m not sure how far you’ll get, since you’re not Dr. S.”

“Thanks anyway – I have that number too,” Sandor paused, thinking. “Wait a minute, could you then, as soon as I hang up, call them and tell them they need to call me right away? That’s has got to be okay, right? Dr. Stark says it’s very urgent.”

“That, I can try that. Nothing’s ever been said explicitly about that. Can’t promise results though.”

“A try is all I’m asking.”

“But wait, can’t they call _her_ phone?”

“It broke.”

Jeyne was silent for a moment.

Sandor knew she wasn’t stupid. Sansa treated her phone like the crown jewels themselves. Jeyne knew that. Sansa had a complete replica back-up phone in the vault at the office that Jeyne updated weekly – sometimes biweekly depending on what had transpired since the previous back-up. And there was a reason Jeyne had been with Sansa since the day Sansa started needing extra help running the company: she was bright, caught on quick, and memorizes the littlest details to help Sansa. She was crucial to Sansa’s success.

“Sandor, there is something you’re not telling me.”

“Yes.”

“It’s serious?”

“Very.”

“So… which of the lawyers should I call then?”

“The whole team – every specialty.”

“Now I’m really worried. And scared.”

“I won’t lie,” Sandor swallowed hard, feeling every bit the hypocrite, “you probably should be. But I’m not going to get into it right now. I’ll call you later though, with updates and more information. Keep this under your hat, tight.”

“Of course, Sandor,” Jeyne said. “Is there anything else I can do? For you or Dr. S.?”

“Come to think of it, yes.” Sandor thought. “After you get the lawyers to call me, go to Dr. Stark’s closet there at the office and pack her a bag with a change of clean, very comfortable clothes.”

“Again, ignoring how freaked out I am right now,” Jeyne said, her voice quivering. “Small clothes too?”

“The whole bloody works.”

“Okay, I can do that easy. I’ll toss in the back up phone too.”

“That’s a good idea, though she won’t be turning it on anytime soon.”

“At least she’ll have it when she wants it. Anything else?”

“Try to get some work done, Jeyne. I’ll call you later,” he promised “ and I’ll let you know when I’ll be by to pick up the clothes.”

“Will you tell me more then?”

“Yes, I’ll bring you up to speed.”

“Good, “she said then paused, “Sandor…how worried should I be?”

“Worried but not sick.”

“Okay,” Jeyne didn’t sound convinced. “I’ll send you a text when I get off the phone with the law office.”

“Thanks Jeyne. Talk to you soon.”

Sandor hug up and looked at the time. He knew that he had about twenty minutes, at the very least, before the lawyers would call him. Sansa was high profile enough of a client for her team of lawyers to jump when she said so, but he wondered how fast they would respond to him making the request, instead of Sansa. Maybe Jeyne was scared enough to convey that something wasn’t right. And if she didn’t know what, and therefore couldn’t tell the lawyers what was going on, that might incentivize them even more. All he had to do was wait now.

Sandor scrolled through his contacts until he found the one number that he almost dreaded the most calling. Even more than his phone call to Arya. It rang for a minute before it connected.

“Sandor!”

“Hey Robb.”

“What can I do for you! It’s not super early but I hardly hear from you. So strange time for you calling.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Just pulled into the parking lot at work.”

Sandor silently cursed everything including the Old Gods, held in such reverence by Robb and his sister, for forcing him to ruin Robb’s energetic and chipper mood. “Park your car.”

“Ohhhhhhhh…. kay. Parked.”

“Turn off the engine.”

“Okay…?”

“I need you to get out and give your keys to the parking attendant.”

“Okay one sec.” Sandor could hear Robb’s designer shoes clicking on the concrete of the parking garage. A feint, “have a good day Cormac” and “you too, Mr. Stark” later, Robb pulled his phone back to his ear. “Cormac has the keys.”

“Now go to your secretary.”

“I’m following your instructions, but I just want you to know Sandor,” Robb replied, his voice very flat before it suddenly jumped an octave, “you’re really starting to freak me out!!”

Sandor didn’t reply for a minute. He listened to the ambient noises coming through from around Robb. A skyway. A lobby. An elevator. Sandor heard the elevator ding and announce Robb’s floor. “Are you at your secretary’s desk yet?”

“Yes.”

“Robb, sit down.”

“Okay. I’m sitting at my secretary’s desk and he’s looking at me _very_ strangely. I’m starting to question my own sanity and resolve to remain calm Sandor. Please tell me what’s going on.”

“Robb, have your secretary hire a car to drive you to New Winterfell General.”

There was a long pause and Sandor wondered if Robb was still breathing. A moment later the oldest Stark sibling whispered, “Sandor…what happened to my sister…?”

“Have you talked to her recently?”

“Sandor, what the _fuck_ happened?” Sandor almost grimaced; Robb Stark was known for having an impeccably clean mouth. “I just talked to her two _fucking_ days ago.”

“What did you talk about?”

His voice was distant. “Railey, call down. I need a car. No, cancel all of my appointments today and tomorrow. I don’t know when you can reschedule! Something has come up. No, I don’t know what and no I’m not fine. I’m heading back down. I need the car five minutes ago. Thank you, Railey. I’ll call when I know more.” There was a rustle, drawers opening and closing and a hasty, “I’m not answering _any_ calls Railey!” before Robb put the phone back to his ear. “Sandor, I’m going to have a panic attack. My chest is collapsing.”

“Breathe.”

_As if that would help._ Sandor could imagine all too well, what Robb was feeling like. He _knew_ what Robb was feeling and experiencing. The difference was: Sansa was alive.

Sandor knew Robb needed a distraction, something to take his mind off the physical symptoms he was feeling. But Sandor needed answers too. So, he met in the middle. “Robb, you said you recently got a call from your sister. What did you and Sansa talk about two days ago?”

“She asked if she could come visit – could come stay with me and the family for a bit.”

“Why?”

“She didn’t want me to tell anyone.”

“Robb, I’m not just anyone.”

Robb sighed. “She wouldn’t tell me why, but she said she’s leaving Ramsey.”

“Fuck!” Sandor cried out, pulling the phone away from his face. He punched the air. He growled and spun in a circle. Sandor placed his hands on the wall, shoulder width apart and took deep breaths until his anger subsided. It would never truly go away, not until Sansa was back and healthy and okay. Looking up, he could see Selna eyeing him. It wouldn’t do him any good to get kicked out of the ward. He held up his hand to Selna in apology and lifted the phone back to his ear.

“Sandor! Sandor! Sandor!” Robb was shouting. “…New Winterfell General! Now! Go! …Sandor!”

“I’m here Robb.”

“What’s going on? I’m in the car. I’m on my way.”

“Sansa was attacked.”

“Oh my god.” Sandor could nearly hear Robb’s face pale.

“Have they caught the guy? Do they know who it was?”

“It was Ramsey.”

There was a pause as Robb digested this information. The he started screaming, “That fucking bastard. He’s so dead. Where is he, Sandor? Where! The house? His office? I am going to fucking kill him!”

“She’s already taken care of him.”

“Who?”

“Sansa.”

“Taken care of- “

“Yes, as in killed.”

“Where’s his body then? I’m going to kill him, _again_.”

“Just get here, Robb,” Sandor pleaded. “Forget about that fucker. Sansa needs her brother.”

“Have you called—”

“Only Arya.”

“Good. Don’t bother calling Bran. He’s off on another mission – I haven’t heard from him in three weeks. Meera says she heard from him two weeks ago right before he had to go silent.”

It was normal for the WIA operative to disappear for months on end. No one quite knew how it worked though: Bran had been injured as a boy and spent his life in a wheelchair. Perhaps no one suspected a cripple.

It was good that Robb was thinking through these things, focusing on productive things instead of dwelling on the dead good brother. There would be plenty of time to come for dwelling on what happened to his sister.

Robb’s levelheadedness was coming back to him. “Don’t call Meera yet either. She’ll only tell Bran the first chance she hears from him. Then Bran will want to get involved. That would just frustrate the police. And Rickon is too unpredictable. Don’t call him – though when he does find out, because he will, he always does, he’ll be livid. It’s a small price to pay, I suppose. He just got out of jail again and decided to go visit Skaagos for some R&R. He needs it; he says this time he wants to stay clean. I’ll call him eventually. Then there is Jon…”

“Should I call Jon for you?”

“No. He’ll only try to get the Night’s Watch involved, regardless of the fact that they have absolutely no jurisdiction, under any circumstances, down here – or anywhere south of the Gift. And you know how Federal and Local agencies _love_ to cooperate with each other when their jurisdictions _do_ coincide.”

“That’s probably smart.”

Robb sighed, “For once I’m glad my parents are both dead.”

Sandor didn’t know how to respond to that. He waited a moment out of respect then moved on, asking, “When will you get here?”

“Thirty minutes? Maybe forty-five. Morning traffic in Winterfell and all.”

“Okay. Call me when you’re downstairs. I’ll come get you.”

“Just tell me where her room is.”

“I can, but she’s in a private room, in a secure wing. You need a pass to enter”

“I thought you said that Ramsey was dead. Why would she need to be in a secure area?”

“Oh, he’s dead alright,” Sandor replied but tried to hide the pleasure in his voice from that fact. “There are a lot of women, and some men, who end up in the hospital with living attackers, living abusers. _They_ need to be secure.”

“I never thought about it like that.”

“Neither had I,” Sandor confessed. “You’re right, Sansa probably doesn’t need security at this point, but she’s there by the nature of the crime against her. This ward is geared towards making victims feel safe and heard and in control. Regardless of Ramsey being dead, Sansa was still attacked, still traumatized. She too needs all of those things that this ward provides.”

Robb groaned and said, “I’ll ring when I’m there.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

“And Sandor?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for taking care of my sister.”

“Always.”

Sandor hung up and leaned heavily against the wall. He slid down to sit on the floor, his forearms on his knees and his head hung low. _Gods, it felt good to just sit and breathe for a moment._ He closed his eyes for a second and felt his body drift away.

A gentle kick to his foot woke him.

“Sandor, your phone is ringing,” Selna told him.

“What?”

“Your phone, it’s ringing.”

“Fuck,” Sandor rubbed his face, trying to wake up.

“Thanks, Selna,” He said and looked at his phone but didn’t recognize the number. He cleared his dry throat an hit the accept call button. “Sandor Clegane speaking.”

“Mr. Clegane. This is Monira Tradd, Dr. Stark’s personal lawyer. Jeyne Poole just called and somehow convinced me that it is absolutely imperative that I call you right away.”

“Mrs. Tradd!” Sandor sat up straighter and rubbed the sleep from his face. “Thank you, thank you for calling so quickly.”

“I’m a very busy woman. What is so urgent? Why couldn’t Dr. Stark call me herself?”

“Mrs. Tradd,” Sandor looked both ways in the hallway and verified the doors around him were closed. No one was in sight. Still, he lowered his voice and spoke quickly. “When I came home – to the Mansion – last night, I found the house ransacked. Sansa was on the floor in her bedroom half clothed. There was a lot of blood and Ramsey was dead on the floor – half clothed as well. I called the cops and medics, and now we’re at New Winterfell General. The doctor has confirmed that she was violently raped. Her physical state and appearance are evidence enough that she was physically attacked, violently assaulted. She’s been sedated since early this morning. The cops have already taken a preliminary statement from me about finding her.”

“What shape is she in?”

“Alive.”

“Permanent damage?”

“Nothing severe, just cuts that will scar. But mentally? I couldn’t say. Not yet.”

“It was stupid for you to talk to the cops without representation.”

The change in topic startled Sandor. He balled his fists, defensively. “I didn’t sign anything, and I only gave the facts.”

“Still, stupid.”

“It’s not like I had your phone number, Mrs. Tradd. Until now.”

“Sass is unappreciated, Mr. Clegane.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I haven’t slept since the night before last.”

“Okay. My assistant is pulling together everyone on the team as we speak.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll represent both Dr. Stark and you.”

Sandor cracked his neck, relieved. “Thank you, really, thank you…Mrs. Tradd, it is _very_ clear to me now what happened last night.”

“And what is that?”

“I just got off the phone with Robb Stark a bit ago. What I didn’t know when I got home last night or when I spoke with the cops this morning – though now, what she said to me last night when I found her makes so much more sense – was that Sansa was leaving Ramsey. He attacked her for planning on an escape from the marriage. How he found out? I don’t know. But she was trying to get out.”

“We do have a meeting for tomorrow morning, first thing, with the company lawyers and her personal team.” Mrs. Tradd confirmed, thinking more out loud than to Sandor. “Perhaps it was to discuss the potential divorce.”

“I can’t pretend to know what that meeting was supposed about; I just know when and where she’s going to be; I’m not usually privy to what she’s going to be discussing. But Ramsey was supposed to be out of town for another couple of days. She must have counted on using that time to pack and leave. Somehow, he found out and came home and attacked her. Raped her. I don’t know what she used, but she killed him.”

“Self-defense then.”

“I get the feeling the cops aren’t convinced of that.”

“Mr. Clegane, listen to me carefully, do not talk to them anymore. You’ve made your preliminary statement. We’ll have a meeting here before coming over and meeting with you and Sansa later today.”

“I don’t know when she’ll wake up – they have her heavily sedated right now.”

“Very well. I’ll be in touch Mr. Clegane.”

“Thanks again, Mrs. Tradd.” Sandor sighed, ready to close his eyes again, but his phone dinged.

**On the flight. Direct from RTI to WFI. A couple of hours away. – LilWolf**

**Fly safe. – Sandor**

Sandor stood and stretched. His phone dinged again. He groaned. Never had he made so many calls or texts so much in one day. He didn’t like it. He preferred his digitally quite life.

**Pulling into the parking lot. – R**

Sandor popped his head in once more, but Sansa still hadn’t moved. He passed Selna as she exited the elevator.

She smiled at him, “I thought you said you weren’t going to leave her side.”

“She’s unconscious. I’m just going downstairs to get Sansa’s older brother.”

“Don’t take him directly to see Sansa. Use the room just before the double doors, labeled ‘Family’, to update him.” Selna said, holding the elevator door open. “I will have no familial breakdowns on my ward. It doesn’t help the patients. It often makes it worse. This room is designated specifically to give families a private place to be informed and react. Without affecting the patients.”

“Roger that.”

Selna nodded, satisfied, and let the elevator doors close. Sandor gulped as the doors opened again to the lobby. He half expected Robb to sock him in the jaw when he saw him. After all, he _was_ supposed to protect Robb’s little sister. And he failed…

He walked out of the elevator and looked around.

“Sandor!” Robb was pushing through the front doors. His normally pristine suit was already askew, his tie crooked, his suit jacket creased under his parka, and his perfect hair looked as though he had been pulling at it the entire car ride. He gripped Sandor’s hand in a vice-like handshake and squeezed his hand around Sandor’s outstretched elbow. “Sandor, where is my sister?”

“Upstairs. Come on.” Sandor decided to lead Robb to the stairs instead. It did the trick.

By the time they approached the double doors, Robb had yelled and cussed his fill. The room offered by Selna wasn’t necessary. Robb looked tired and subdued. Sandor swiped them in and led them to Sansa’s door. He went in first.

Sansa was fidgeting, groaning, her head shaking side to side. “No…no…”

It took three strides to be at her side, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Sansa! Sansa, you’re having a nightmare. Open your eyes, love.”

With a scream, she sat up straight, eyes flying open, fingers ready to scratch and gouge.

“Sansa, you’re okay. You’re safe!” Sandor implored, trying not to touch her. Selna had said that physical contact, unrequested and unexpected, could cause flashbacks and panic attacks.

“Sandor?” she reached out hesitantly. Her slender fingers traced his scars from eyebrow to chin as if to prove to herself that he was indeed real and there with her. “I…I…you didn’t leave me.”

“I told you I wouldn’t,” he smiled softly to her as she ran her pointer finger along his lips.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Six or seven hours.”

“And I’m…I’m still in the hospital.”

“Yes, for at least a few more days.”

She had nothing to say to that.

“What time is it?”

“Close to nine in the morning.”

Her eyes widened, “Shit, I have so much to do. I have to call Jeyne.”

“I’ve already spoken with her once this morning.”

“You what?”

“I told her you wouldn’t be coming in for a while. I’ll call her again in a little bit to update her on your…status. She’ll handle what she can and cancel the rest. Only the absolutely most critical needs will come through to you. At least for a while.”

Slowly, she nodded.

“What do I do now?” she asked, so unsure.

A hollow, insecure version of who she was a few days earlier sat in front of him. It wasn’t the Sansa he knew. Sandor hoped that this Sansa was temporary.

“Well, the police will be coming back today or tomorrow to talk to you. But first, we’ll talk to your lawyers. They’ll tell us what to do and say to the cops.”

“You’ve already talked to them? The lawyers?”

“Only to briefly inform Mrs. Tradd of the situation. She’s organizing everything on their end now. She’ll call me back soon.”

“She’s one of the best.”

“Only the best lawyer for the best businesswoman.” Sandor replied, making the corner of Sansa’s swollen mouth raise just a bit.

He suddenly felt very tired. Hesitantly he raised his hand and paused, studying her face. She didn’t react so he slipped her hair out of her face. Cautiously he said, “Sansa, Arya is flying home.”

“You called my sister?”

“Yes.”

“You told her,” she whispered accusingly.

“I had to.”

“No! No, you didn’t!” Sansa shrieked. “Sandor! I trusted you to keep my secrets! You should be helping me keep this under wraps, not telling my sister!”

“Sansa, I’m exhausted!” he never raised his voice but instead it dropped to a low rumble, almost a growl.

The sudden shift caused Sansa to snap her mouth shut and look at him with minor shock; Sandor hardly ever spoke over her, telling her what to do, or cutting her off and contradicting her.

“Sansa, I need someone to be here for you, _with_ you. I need someone who can protect you like I can, while at the same time being someone you trust and won’t have a panic attack around. I told you that I won’t leave your side but love, I’m _exhausted_. I need to sleep, Sansa. I am not on my A-game and that’s what you need right now.”

“But my sister?” she whispered in a small voice.

“I didn’t think you wanted me calling anyone at the company.”

“No…”

“That’s not all.”

Sansa bit her lip, physically trying to keep herself from freaking out on him again.

“I called Robb.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head. Sansa looked up and passed Sandor’s shoulder. He turned his head to follow her sight. Robb was leaning heavily on the wall, staring at his sister. Sandor could practically see the oldest Stark child’s heart breaking then and there, on the spot.

Sansa reached out, letting Sandor’s jacket fall off her arms as she held them open. She opened and closed her fists like a baby asking for more. Her voice cracked, “Robby?”

“Sansan.” Robb exclaimed, rushing forward. He gathered his sister in his arms, and she sobbed. She clung to him as though he were her last hope for survival on a sinking ship.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, no,” he cooed back. “Don’t say that. Don’t say anything. I’m here. We’ll figure it out later.”

“Sandor,” Selna appeared at his left elbow and couched his shoulder. “Sandor I’m afraid you’re going to pass out and hit your head. You’re spent. You just admitted it.”

“That I am.”

“I couldn’t get you a cot, but the armchair in the corner reclines fully. I left you a pillow and blanket. Get some sleep.”

“I should stay awake though, until her sister arrives.”

“You’ll help her more if you’re rested. You just admitted that too,” she reminded him gently again.

“But the lawyers will call at any moment.”

“I have a feeling that you’re wired enough you’ll wake up at the quietest ring. You won’t miss it.”

“I don’t know.”

“Sleep, Sandor.” Robb said, turning to look at him over his shoulder. He rocked Sansa side to side, rubbing small circles into her back. The hospital gown exposed her skin and Robb was able to see where it wasn’t bandaged or bruised. He was careful to touch only untouched skin. “I may not be trained like you or Arya, but I’ve got her till you wake up. Or until Arya arrives.”

Sandor nodded hesitantly.

“Come on big guy.” Selna pulled on his arm gently and pushed him to the armchair. He sat down and Selna pushed the chair back flat. He blinked only a few times before falling into a much-needed slumber. The last thing he saw was Sansa safe in her brother’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working on the exact ages but Sansa (in my head, Sophie Turner) is about 30 and Sandor (my future husband if my current partner ever dies, Rory McCann) is about 47 – the normal age gap here. The Stark sibling age gaps are the same: Robb and Jon are a couple of years older than Sansa. Arya is three years younger than her. Bran is a year younger than Arya. And Rickon is four years younger than him. I’m picturing the original casting for the Starks; Maisie, Isaac, Kit and Art. With much credit to my friend Gina, who is obsessed with Richard Madden, his portray of Robb is who I’ve imagined in my head for this fic.
> 
> As a result, Robb is still alive in this AU, but both Ned and Cat are deceased. With him living, I’m not sure why Sansa ended up with the house instead of Robb, but it works with the story so I’m rolling with it. Perhaps we’ll find out in the future. That said, I’m still trying to figure out the world and the family circumstances. It’s the only downside to posting as I go.
> 
> Sorry for the repeat of information that’s coming in the chapters and coming soon (before this one and a few after this one). We’ll get to new stuff soon. But everyone has to be notified so Sandor has to tell everyone.


	6. Mom's Black Magic Fixes Any Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya gangs up with Sansa against Sandor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously On: Sandor calls Arya, Sansa's assistant Jeyne Poole, and Sansa's team of lawyers before finally taking a nap.

“Sandor? Sandor.”

“Argh!” he growled, swiping his fist out.

“Woah, woah! Sandor! Wake up!” Robb jumped out of range of the weapons also known as Sandor’s fists.

“Huh?” Sandor swallowed and sat up, realizing that he was tense and poised to fight. Somethings from war never left the muscle memory. He looked around and reacquainted himself with the hospital room. Sansa was asleep. Robb stood a stride away. “Gods, sorry Robb. Did I get you?”

“Barely missed me.”

Sandor reached towards his toes and stretched. “How long was I out?”

“Eight hours or so.”

Sandor’s heart jumped. He grabbed for his phone but couldn’t find it. “Fuck! Did I miss a call from the lawyers? Where the hell is my phone?’

“Right here.” Robb handed it over. “It rang twice but you didn’t stir. I answered the third time and spoke with Mrs. Tradd. They’ve just left.”

“They lawyers were _here?”_

“Yeah.”

“Fuck,” he growled, rubbing his face. “I should have been awake for that.”

“Selna tried waking you. We both did. The lawyers told us to let you sleep. Sansa agreed. She insisted on it. The lawyers will talk to you later. It was impressive though, you slept through the meeting right here in this room.”

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing much. It was mostly a briefing session, information gathering. They asked preliminary questions and answered twice that many questions from mostly me, but Sansa asked a few too. Sansa had to sign a lot of paperwork. Basic stuff like given them power to make on the spot legal decisions and giving them the ability to sign for things at court and with the cops in her place. They’re going over to the police station to discuss things with the cops and the district attorney.”

“Why the D.A.?”

“I think it’s because the second party is deceased and deceased by unnatural means at that. It becomes a case for the state.”

“They’re not going to,” Sandor looked to confirm that Sansa was indeed asleep, “they’re not going to _arrest_ her, are they?”

“I don’t know,” Robb shook his head. “I wouldn’t think so.”

“What was the feeling you got when they left?”

“They’re cautious but confident.”

“Good,” Sandor nodded. “She’s got the best the North has to offer. They’ve always taken care of her and have always done stellar work for her.”

“That’s a relief. Nothing but the best for my sister.”

“And Sansa?” Sandor looked to the bed. “How’s she doing?”

Robb looked behind his shoulder and his shoulders slumped. He stated the obvious, “She’s asleep again.”

“Did she say anything to you?”

“No, but she mostly just cried. And apologized. A lot. For letting it happen. For not leaving sooner. For pulling me away from work. For keeping me from my family. I couldn’t convince her not to worry about it. I just sat there holding her for most of it.”

“Fuck,” Sandor shook his head.

“Sandor, she said a lot of other things too. I don’t understand half of what she said. I have a feeling you can answer my questions. But I need to go for a walk. I need to get out of this room so I can show some emotion, so _I_ can break down a little bit. So that when I come back, I can be rock solid for my sister. I’ll get my questions answered later.” Robb picked up his suit jacket and pulled it on.

Sandor’s phone rang and he picked it up without looking at the caller. “Hello?”

“Hey Puppy Dog, I just landed. Should I rent a car or get a cab, or can you come pick me up at the airport?”

 _It’s Arya_ , Sandor mouthed to Robb. Robb stopped straightening his tie and waited. “I have Robb here too.”

“Good. Is he okay?”

“He’s helpless and feeling it. But we all are.”

“We’ll figure this out together.”

“Somehow.” Sandor agreed. “Hey, Robb is just about to go for a walk, maybe he can come pick you up at the airport?”

The question was as much for the man standing in front of him as it was for the woman on the other end of the line. Robb eagerly nodded, “Tell her I’m on my way.”

Sandor nodded. “Yeah, Arya, Robb is on the way. He’s leaving now so it’ll be a half hour or so until he gets there.”

“That’s fine. I’m still sitting on the plane. By just landed, I meant that literally. We _just_ got the OK to turn back on our phones. I should be out at pick-up by the time he gets here. I don’t mind waiting a few minutes either.”

“Okay, see you soon then, little wolf,” Sandor said as Robb left the hospital room.

“You too puppy dog.”

Sandor paced the room for a while then decided that to run down the stairs to grab coffee and some food. His stomach hurt and he couldn’t remember the last time he had had a complete and full meal. Probably the morning before when Alyce had force fed him a huge breakfast before he caught his flight home.

He was walking through the lobby, deliberately walking slow and putting one foot carefully in front of the other. His shoes were big enough they took up a tile and almost a third.

“Puppy dog!”

Sandor’s head snapped up and he saw the short brunette running towards him. She’d started to grow her hair out and wore it up at the moment, though there were lots of bottom hairs that weren’t long enough, and they stuck out at all angles. She wore her black combat boots, close fitting cargo pants, long-sleeve, and quilted vest. The Arya Stark signature look. She carried nothing in her hand but her phone. She opened her arms as she leapt. Sandor caught her easily and spun her around, squeezing her tight.

He couldn’t help but squeeze her so fucking hard.

Gods, he wanted to squeeze Sansa that tight, but he couldn’t – especially not now. He settled instead for her little sister and his good friend. Emotions welled up in his chest with the realization that yes, they were indeed good friends.

“Little wolf,” he grinned, setting her down and holding her shoulders out at his arms’ length. Sandor looked her up and down thoroughly. “It’s good to see you. You look well.”

“No, I don’t. I’m a nervous mess, and I blame you for it.”

“I could have not called you. You could have found out after the fact, from someone else.”

“You wouldn’t have dared.”

“No,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t have. Your sister needs you.”

“Is she…? How bad is it?”

“Her face isn’t pretty.” Sandor admitted. “Kinda looks like a weed whacker got at her.”

Arya squinted at him. “It wasn’t an actual weed whacker was it?”

“No, no.” Sandor shook his head.

“I never asked you before,” Robb spoke up. “How _did_ she get those cuts all over her face and chest?”

“And hands.” Sandor reminded him.

“And hands.”

“She was thrown into the china cabinet.”

Arya’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry. Come again?”

“The house is wrecked. I’m honestly surprised she is in as good of shape as she is.”

“Can I go see it?”

“The house?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think so. At least for a while. It’s a crime scene now. No one will probably be allowed to get in there for weeks.”

“But Sansa, can I at least go see _her_?”

“Yeah, come on.” Sandor waved them to follow him to the elevators.

Robb didn’t move. “I don’t…I’m not sure I can again. Not right now.”

“Robb she’s your sister. She needs us,” Arya’s voice was cold.

“I’ve been here all day, Arya,” he snapped back. “I held her while she cried and while she slept and while she cried again. I sat through talking with the lawyers and I held her when an attendant brought lunch, but she thought that he worked for Ramsey. She thought her abusive, dead husband had sent someone after her to continue hurting her. I held her while she nearly passed out from hyperventilation and I was there when she fought me and the nurse who was trying to sedate her.”

Sandor looked at his feet. He’d slept through that. She had needed him to be her bodyguard and he had been asleep. Shame washed away any feelings of joy he had at seeing Arya.

“So, no Arya, I’m not going back up right now. I’m going to home to my son and my wife and I am going to hug them tight. I’m going to kiss them. I am going to tell them I love them very much. And then I’m going to take a nap. I’m going to shower and then hug my family some more. I’ll be back tonight or in the morning. Is that okay with you?”

Arya pulled Robb in for a hug and they held each other tight. “I’m sorry. I just…we need to stick together. We should have stuck together more. Maybe we would have noticed something sooner.”

“Don’t go down that path of thinking, little wolf.” Sandor coughed. “It won’t help. You’ll only end up feeling like more of a shit. Take it from me. I’m still down that road.”

“Well,” she pulled away from her brother and kissed Sandor on the cheek, “I certainly don’t blame you Sandor.”

“Not yet.” He mumbled but she didn’t hear him. She didn’t know how much he knew. Yet.

“Go on, get going then Robb.” Arya said. “Give Jey and Bander hugs from me too. Tell them I’ll swing by sometime soon.”

“Will do.” Robb shook Sandor’s hand and disappeared out the doors.

“Are you ready, little wolf?” Sandor asked.

“No.” She replied honestly. “But I don’t have a choice. This isn’t about me.”

“No, it isn’t about anyone but Sansa right now.”

They took the elevator in silence. At the double doors Arya froze. She grabbed his jacket sleeve and yanked him to a stop, her grip a vice. “Sandor, how broken is my sister?”

“She’s got some broken ribs and some sprains. You know about the glass. I suppose you should know that we know she was raped. But I suspect that, based on how the room looked, she killed him while he was raping her.”

“That’s not entirely what I meant.” Arya swallowed hard. Her face had gone pale. “She’s the strongest, smartest person I know. What is _she_ like now? How broken is _she?_ ”

“It’s hard to tell.” Sandor replied honestly. “When I found her and this morning, she seemed…not broken but not whole either.”

“Okay.”

“But Arya, that was probably the trauma, the shock, the literal pain of it all. She’s probably numb to a lot of it right now.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve seen soldiers do similar things: I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s disassociating to protect herself from the pain. Physical or otherwise.”

“So like, at some point she’s going to snap and is going to feel all of it for real? She’ll realize what’s happened?”

“Maybe.”

“And I might not have my big sister at the end of all of this. I’ve seen what war does.”

Sandor didn’t respond.

The two of them stood at the double doors, staring at the wood slabs for a long time. Neither spoke. Hospital personal moved around them. Alarms went off and were silenced. Other families passed them. Finally, Arya was the one to speak first.

“What do I say to her Sandor?”

“I don’t know.”

“ _Do_ I say anything?”

“Maybe not,” he shrugged. “Maybe let her direct the conversation. If she wants to talk that is. Definitely don’t ask about what happened – the nurse told me that was a big no-no. If she brings it up, just listen, don’t ask questions. But safety, security - that’s all I’ve been giving her really. Comfort. Distractions from the examinations, the poking and prodding, and the memories. It seems to be helping a little bit. Or it’s not making it worse at least.”

“You’re not just a bodyguard, are you?” Arya asked, looking up at him.

He glanced at her and saw the grin on her face. He couldn’t help but laugh too. “Aye. Somewhere along the way we became best friends.”

“Not really what I meant. You care for her.”

“I do.”

“Good. I guess she needs all the love in the world right now.”

“I’d say so, yes.”

“I guess we should go in now too.”

“Probably.”

“How long have we been standing here?”

“No idea,” Sandor replied.

He stepped to the wall and swiped his key card. The door swung open. He led Arya halfway down the hall and turned the handle to Sansa’s door slowly. Arya followed at a distance as Sandor walked into the room.

Sansa was staring up at the wall, her face blank.

“Little Bird it’s me.” He called out softly

She jumped, crying out in pain. She rolled over onto her side in a ball, gasping from the pain, and trying to protect herself. She was shaking. She was whimpering.

“Sansa, it’s just me.” Sandor took another step into the room. “It’s Sandor. I just had to go get some food.”

Sansa peeked over her arm at him. Her blue eyes were so fearful.

“See? Just me for now,” he smiled but turned his palm around backwards. Sandor didn’t need to look to know that Arya had seen it and had sunk backwards into the shadows, out of sight and noiselessly. “Can I come sit next to you?”

Sansa paused then nodded, a whimper escaping her lips.

With deliberate movements, hiding nothing, Sandor sat down, close to her. “You shouldn’t be balled up so tight, love. It’s not good for your ribs.”

“It hurts,” she whispered admittedly.

“See?” Sander smiled kindly and reached out slowly. “Can I help you lay back down?”

Sansa gulped but tentatively slid her hand into his. Sandor stood slowly. He rolled her onto her back while releasing her hand and pulling her legs straight, one at a time. When he looked back at her face, Sansa’s eyes were tightly shut, wrinkles in her furled brow, tears leaking out.

“Is that better or worse?”

Sansa shook her head.

“Worse?”

She shook her head.

“Better?”

Again, she shook her head.

“The same?”

She nodded. Sansa licked her lips and whispered, “just different.”

“Let’s fix this, then, shall we?”

Sansa nodded.

“Here,” Sandor held out his forearm for her to take. Sansa set a shaky hand in his. He closed his fingers and gripped her hand tightly but carefully. Then, he carefully took her other hand and placed it on his wrist. She couldn’t get her fingers to touch, even if she tried. “Are you okay with this?”

Sansa nodded.

“Good, just hold on to me. I’ll do all the work for you. Are you ready?”

Sansa nodded slowly.

Sandor leaned over her. At the same time, he used the arm she was holding on to, to pull her forward. Quickly, he adjusted her pillows so that they weren’t arching her back so much. As he let her lean back, the furled brow started to ease, though she still held onto his arm. Sandor wiped a tear and kissed her cheek. Sansa opened her eyes at that.

“I know that a kiss doesn’t really help,” Sandor explained. “But my mom always gave us one when we were growing up, if we got hurt. She said that it helped with the pain and made tears disappear. I never put much stock in it. I know you’re in pain though. I can’t do much to help with that right now. So, we’ll have to give my mom’s black magic a try.”

Sansa searched his eyes. Her face was easy enough for him to read. She wasn’t sure if he was teasing her.

“I’m serious. It’s my mom’s black magic. I thought it worked when I was a lad. Does it work on adults too?”

“I’m not crying anymore,” she finally murmured.

“No, you’re not.” Sandor grinned. “I guess my mom was kind of right. How’s the pain?”

Sansa pondered this. “I think you should try again.”

Sandor had to suppress the blush he felt crawling up his neck. He raised himself enough off the chair to lean over and to kiss the tip of her nose, where there were no bandages, only her skin. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips lightly before pulling back and opening his eyes. Her eyes were closed as well but a peaceful smile played on her lips.

“How about now?” he asked her softly, sitting back down.

Her eyes popped open and focused only on him. “I still hurt, but I do feel better.”

“I’ll be sure to tell my mom that something’s wrong with her magic. She’ll have to give me the solution to fix it.”

“I’d like that.”

“But in the meantime,” Sandor rubbed the back of her hands with his thumbs, “do you think you might be up for a visitor?”

“I don’t know.”

“I know you’re tired. And you’ve had a stressful day. Robb told me a little bit about the lawyers.”

“You slept through it all.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I told them all not to wake you up. I threatened them if they did.”

“Oh?” Sandor raised his eyebrow. “And what did you threaten them with?”

Sansa thought back, her voice was soft and dreamy from the medicines, “I don’t know. Probably something silly. I don’t remember. You needed the sleep. How long had you been awake?”

“Not long.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“Sort of,” he admitted. “Just not telling you the whole truth.”

“Then how long had you been awake?” Sansa pressed him.

“Since my nieces woke me up with breakfast in bed yesterday.”

“Sandor!” she exclaimed. “And how long was that?”

“Thirty something hours, maybe? I don’t know for sure. I wasn’t really counting.”

“Did you sleep on the plane at least?”

“I had company reports to look over.”

“Do I work you too hard?”

“Not at all, Little Bird. I enjoy the work.”

“But thirty hours? Sleeping in a chair in the hospital? Finding me…it’s too much. It’s too much Sandor.”

“Are you letting me go?” he teased. They had a similar version of this conversation every other week.

“No, but I worry about you.”

“Well I worry about you too.” Sandor replied. “That puts us in good shape I would think.”

“Yeah. We do take care of each other, don’t we?”

“So, what do you say, love?” Sandor wondered. “Maybe just a short visit. They’re really worried about you.”

“I don’t want my nephew and good sister to see me like this!” She cried out. “I’ll give him nightmares! He’ll hate me! He’ll never want to see me again!”

“Shh shhh shh.” Sandor said, releasing one of his hands and smoothing back her hair. “No, no, he could never hate you. He adores you.”

“Please don’t let him see me.” She sniffled, trying to hold back more tears.

“Shush, Little Bird, I never meant to upset you.” Sandor pleaded. “I only used ‘they’ to mask who is here to see you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We had to sedate you this morning. After all the tests and exams,” Sandor began. “While you were sleeping, I made some phone calls. Robb got here the fastest – since he lives just on the other side of town. I called Jeyne and, though I didn’t tell her anything specific, – only that you weren’t coming into work for a few days – I told her to handle things for you until I got back to her later today or tomorrow.”

“Who else did you call?” Focusing on his words, his story, visibly relaxed Sansa. It gave her something to concentrate on.

“You scolded me this morning for making the call. I suppose you don’t remember though.”

“Who was it?”

“Do you think you are feeling up to seeing your sister, Little Bird?”

“Arya!”

“Aye, she’s just in from the airport. I was meeting her downstairs in the lobby, otherwise I would have been here when you woke up.”

“Arya is _here?_ ”

“Hi, big sister.” Arya called out, poking her head around the corner.

Sansa’s head snapped around. She grinned and a whole new round of tears erupted. “Arya!”

Sansa pulled her hands away from Sandor and held her arms open once again. Arya ran to her and hugged her. Sandor could see Arya’s muscles flexing as she tried not to squeeze her sister. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself: the feeling was universal then.

“Oh Arya!” Sansa sobbed. “I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too Sansa! I’m sorry that–-“

Sandor coughed and pretended to sneeze. He shook his head no when Arya glanced sideways at him. She blinked her understanding.

“I’m sorry that I don’t visit more. I’m reaching a point in work where I should be able to do that now.”

“Are things going okay?” Sansa pulled away, searching her sister’s face.

“Yeah, things are going really, really well. They have me traveling a lot to do trainings all over the world. I don’t mind. You know how much I can’t stand to be trapped in one place for a long time.”

“How will you ever settle down? Are you still only living out of Air B&B’s?” Sansa asked.

Arya had the wherewithal to blush. “Yeah, I am.”

“You need to find an apartment,” her sister chided.

“Well, you know,” Arya glanced at Sandor. Sansa didn’t notice. “I’ve been thinking about maybe coming back north and getting a place in or around Winterfell. It’s a bit more expensive to fly out of WFI compared to other cities, just because it is so much farther away from everything. But I’m not paying for my flights, am I? Why should I care!”

“That’s the right attitude.” Sansa laughed, pulling Arya back in for another hug. “Do you mean it? Are you really thinking about moving back home?”

“Just to get a place, you know. A home base sort of. I’ll still be gone for most of the time. I’d probably have to hire a caretaker and then I could rent out the place when I’m gone – you know, make the mortgage without having to spend any of my hard-earned cash.”

“I knew you had a business bone in there somewhere.”

“Oh hush.”

Arya sat on the edge of the bed.“Has this big guy been treating you alright?” Arya nodded her head at Sandor.

Sansa grinned, setting her head back against the pillows, and looked at him too. “He’s been wonderful as usual.”

“Good.”

“He’s the one who found me, did you know that?”

“What?” Arya’s head snapped back to her sister. The casual way in which she brought it up was strange and it bothered the younger Stark girl.

Sandor wanted to tell her that Sansa was probably still disassociating, like he warned her she might be. That the events might not have completely sunk in yet. Like, Sansa _knew_ what had happened, but her brain was mentally blocking out the severity of it for her own protection.

“Last night. Sandor was the one who found me. He called 9-1-1. He got me out of there. He hasn’t left my side since.”

“Not once?” Arya raised her eyebrows. Sandor could see that she wanted to address the earlier parts of Sansa’s statement but refrained from doing so. He was grateful for that.

“No, he’s been at myside non-stop.” Sansa pulled Sandor’s hand against her stomach and wouldn’t let him go.

“That’s not very healthy, puppy dog.” Arya joked.

“I’ve been to eat, and I’ve used the restroom. I even slept most of the day.”

“How’s the cafeteria food?” Sansa wondered.

“It’s not atrocious. But certainly no 5-star restaurant.”

“And you, Sansa,” Arya turned the attention back to her sister, “how are you doing?”

Sansa wiggled her mouth, thinking. “I’m worried.”

“About what?”

“Sandor.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Of all things, you’re worried about your bodyguard?”

“Best friend,” Sansa corrected. “He’s my best friend! I wish people would stop referring to him in that way.”

“It _is_ his job.”

“But he’s more than that.”

“We’ll work on semantics at another time, I promise. How’s that?”

“Fine.” Sansa huffed.

“So, tell me, why are you worried about Puppy Dog?”

“He needs to go home and shower and get some real sleep and have a proper meal. He hasn’t been to the gym yet today and there are probably important things he needs to see to at North Inc.” Sansa said, ticking things off a list in her head. She’d probably been working on the list while Sandor and Arya were standing outside the double doors.

Sandor smiled at the thought.

“He’s a grown ass man,” Arya pointed out. “I’m sure he can take care of himself. Besides if he hasn’t done anything for himself today, he probably doesn’t need to. Or he has a good reason not to.”

“Do you?” Sansa asked, looking pointedly at Sandor.

“Do I what?”

“Have a good reason not to follow your routine? I know you need to follow your routine. We are both creatures of habit and routine. It’s one of the reasons we get along so very well.”

Sandor glared at Arya. He hated that she’d put him in this position.

He cleared his throat, “I uh, I can afford a few days off, Little Bird.”

“That’s not the whole truth.”

Sandor sighed, “I’ve been here with you, love. I told you I wouldn’t leave you and I haven’t. I’m here as long as you’re here.”

“No!” Sansa shouted and yanked her hand away from him. “No! No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!”

“Sansa!” Arya exclaimed, trying to dodge her flailing arms.

“NO!”

Sandor leapt to his feet and put himself between her and Arya. It wasn’t that Arya couldn’t handle a little beating – she’d taken more than a few not-so-little ones in her job and had come out on top. But Arya hadn’t experienced this sudden outburst from Sansa yet. The doctor supposed it had to do with her trying to protect herself but not knowing how to or what to say to express herself with the strange feelings she had swirling around inside.

No, Sandor put himself between the sisters to protect Arya from seeing Sansa try to claw off the bandages on her face and chest and hands and to protect Sansa from seeing the shock, mild horror, and overwhelming sadness that Arya inevitably had written all over her face. She may have been a faceless assassin, but when it came to her family, Sandor could read her face like an open children’s book. Anyone could.

“Sansa!” he cooed, wanting desperately to grab her arms but refraining from doing so. “Sansa love, it’s okay! What are you feeling?”

“NO!” she screamed again, hitting Sandor on his shoulders. “No! You shouldn’t have to be here all the time! You shouldn’t give up your life and let it pass you by just because I fucked up.”

“I haven’t given my life up!” Sandor tucked her hair behind her ear.

“But you’ve never found a wife. And you’ve never had kids! You trail me all day, every day, and you hardly make time for yourself!”

“No you’re starting to sound like my sister,” Sandor chuckled. He never dropped his hand and instead, he kept running his fingers from her temple to behind her ear. Sansa was leaning into his touch though her eyes said she was still mad. “Sansa, I love what I do. I love getting to laugh with you every day. The hours fit my military training and as a result I’ve never had to adjust. So what? We’re in a hospital for a while. Okay then. It’s this or the office.”

“No!” Sandor could see the anxiety building in her chest. Sansa was starting to gasp for breath. “No!”

“Do you want me to make him go home?” Arya asked, appearing on the other side of the bed. She was now in line with Sandor and easily pulled Sansa’s attention away from him.

Sansa’s breath hitched in her chest and she searched her sisters face, wondering what she meant.

Sandor wondered too.

“Sansa, I can send him home if you want,” Arya repeated. “I’ll make him go home and shower and sleep and have a good homecooked meal. I’ll make sure he changes his clothes and stops by the office to check in there. If you want, I’ll make him take a walk.”

“Can you?” Sansa wondered.

Sandor opened and closed his mouth, feeling betrayed. If she didn’t want him there, she could have just said so. He’d have gone.

“I can. But he’ll be back in half of the amount of time you want him to rest,” Arya admitted. “He won’t stay away for long. He doesn’t want to. He thinks he needs to be at your side the whole time, to protect you.”

“But he doesn’t,” Sansa replied. “You’re here now. He can take a break.”

“That’s my point,” Arya said.

Sandor realized the little wolf’s explanation was more for his benefit than Sansa’s.

“He needs a little break, but he doesn’t trust your safety with anyone else right now. But Sandor knows that I was protecting you long before he came around so I can do it for at least few hours now.”

“Is that true?” Sansa turned back to him.

“Yeah, it is.” Sandor admitted. “You chose me to guard you. That’s my job and I love it. It’s not even really a job – it’s not _work_. But that means that I also won’t leave you alone until you tell me to go away. You asked me not to leave your side when we were in the ambulance.”

“But you look so tired now. You’re growing a weird beard.” Sansa rubbed her fingers across his stubble.

“What is carved into almost piece of family heirlooms for you Starks?” Sandor rhetorically asked. Sansa looked at him quizzically but he answered himself for her. “’Winter is Coming,’ love. Maybe I’ll keep growing it.”

“Not too long. You have a strong jawline,” Sansa whispered. “A bushy beard would make that disappear.”

“Then I’ll just trim it up, keep it clean.”

“It’ll be splotchy!” Arya blurted out, unable to help herself. “I thought you said once you can’t grow hair on your scars.”

“Arya! That’s rude!” Sansa gasped and blushed deep red for her sister’s sake.

Sandor laughed, his voice booming in the room. “Aye, that’s right Little Wolf. That’s why I hardly ever grow one.”

Arya laughed along with him and they high fived.

Sansa didn’t laugh. She studied the bandages on her hands before looking up at Sandor.

“Sandor?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Aye, little Bird. What’s on your mind?”

“What does my face look like?”

Sansa whispered it so softly that Arya immediately replied, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Sandor grabbed Sansa’s hand and squeezed.

Her lip quivered, “Is it that bad?”

“No, it’s not terrible,” he insisted. “Not like my scars. They’ve done a good job in cleaning them up. I think this one,” he pointed to the deepest one – the one he had to hold her down for, “I think this one will definitely scar. The others though,” Sandor lightly traced the other bandages or just above the exposed scab, “I think they will heal nicely. If they scar, I doubt the scars will be bad enough that a little make-up won’t cover them, if you want.”

“But that big one,” Arya teased, and Sansa snapped her eyes to Arya, worry lines appearing on her forehead, “you and Sandor will be two peas in a pod!”

Sansa’s chin waivered even though she smiled ever so slightly.

“And I’ll draw some of the looks away for you!” Sansa suddenly grinned at Sandor.

“You already do, love, you’re so beautiful no one gives me a second glance – unless they’re considering invading your personal space. _Then_ they see me, and they think twice. But I don’t mind my scars anymore. They just are. I’m happy and often don’t think about them. You’ve taught me that they’re a part of me. Now you have some scars too. I’ll teach you how to accept yours, if you need me to.”

“And the rest of me?” she wondered. Her free hand clenched the hospital gown up tight to her neck.

“Internal mostly,” Sandor admitted. “The superficial injuries are mostly on your chest, face and arms and hands. The bruises and red marks will fade.”

“Am I still beautiful?”

Sandor couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “Sansa, don’t even ask that question.”

“Arya?”

“No, I’m siding with Sandor on this one.”

“Sandor! Answer me!”

“You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Sandor replied softly, trying very hard not to meet Arya’s raised eyes.

“Then you need to go!” Sansa pushed Sandor away. “Go and do everything Arya said she’d make you do.”

“And when I’m done?” Sandor asked. He had to ask. Just to be sure.

“I need you back here.”

“Then here is where I’ll be.” Sandor promised. She nodded and closed her eyes, smiling contentedly as Sandor leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

“Sansa,” Sandor wondered as he stood and slid his phone and wallet into his pocket, “do you mind if I step outside with Arya for a moment?”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I promise. I just want to go over some security things with her.”

“Knock, knock?” Selna called out entering the room. “I’ve got some food for you to try, if you’re feeling up for it, Mrs. Sansa.”

“This is my sister Arya.” Sansa politely introduced them. Then admitted, “I am hungry.”

“Eat.” Arya encouraged. She stood and kissed Sansa’s head. “I’ll be right outside with Sandor for only a few minutes. He’ll probably tell me everything I already know.”

“Probably.” Sansa smiled but her attention was now on the tray that Selna was sliding towards her.

“Call me. Or text me. If you need anything, Little Bird.”

Sansa nodded, though she was now intent on deciding if she wanted pudding or jello first.

Sandor followed Arya outside, and they walked to the window at the end of the hallway, overlooking the courtyard before. The leaves were changing colors in the early autumn air.

“What’s on your mind big guy?”

He studied her face. “Walk me downstairs?”

“Sure.”

After a moment, he asked, “How are you?”

She sniggered. “Are you really asking _me_ that?”

“Yeah, I am,” he said, not joking. “This morning you were going about your normal day. Then I called you, told you your good brother had attacked your sister, and not for the first time, and now he’s dead and your sister is in the hospital with minor physical injuries and major psychological ones. You’re here now and have seen her for yourself. And you’ve also seen her have a moment of weakness, of breaking down.”

“A lot has happened today, hasn’t it?” Arya paused.

Sandor nodded.

Arya sighed, “I’m mad.”

“That’s okay.”

“I want to scream and fight.”

“That’s okay too.”

“I have so many questions.”

“That is…problematic.” Sandor replied. “Having questions is good. I’m not saying that they’re not. I have them too. We’re all going to get a lot of them answered, and hopefully soon. But for now, we _have_ to, for her sake more than anything else, keep them to yourself.”

“Sandor.”

“Arya you have to,” he urged, turning to lead them into the stairwell. “I literally put myself between the two of you in there because when it comes to your sister – or your family in general – you _cannot_ control your facial expressions and your self-control is astonishingly diminished. Sansa needs walls right now. She needs support and protection and she is very susceptible to what others show her right now.”

“But she’s never cared before!”

“Until now. She’s at rock bottom. All of her darkest secrets and her shame is now out in the open. The cops are investigating it. Her lawyers are investigating it. The family now knows about it. It won’t be long, I suspect, until the press gets a whiff of the story. Then the whole world will know about the abuse, and the attack, and the death.” Sandor suddenly felt the weight of everything to come rest on his shoulders. “Everything is going to change for her. All the routines and set ways in her life are upended.”

“That’s going to kill her more than anything,” Arya muttered.

“Yes.” Sandor readily agreed. “That is why we, you and me and Robb, _have_ to keep things as normal as possible. So, control your fucking face and your tongue too.”

“What do I say to her?”

“Are you back on that again?” Sandor rolled his eyes. “Talk to her as you normally would but let her lead the conversation.”

“And if she freaks out again?”

“Ground her in the moment.” Sandor replied. “That’s what one of her doctors told me to do. It seems to work. Recognize what she’s freaking about; these are valid emotions and reasons that she’s feeling. Encourage her that those feelings are real and okay. Then slowly lead her back to reasoning, logic, and eventually lead her completely away from those thoughts and onto something new – preferably not having to do with her condition.”

“So simple. You sound like a fucking textbook.”

“I do, don’t I?”

“And I just sit there with her.”

“ _That_ will kill you.”

“I hate sitting still.” Arya admitted. “I have to move around.”

“Don’t. This gig is all cool, calm, collected; softly spoken words and soothing voices; gentle movements and light, comforting, un-assaulting touches.”

“And you’re able to do that – the not moving?”

“I have practice,” Sandor replied as they emerged into the lobby. “I’m used to periods of inactivity. Sansa often gets locked into all-day meetings and conferences. I do a lot of waiting.”

“And you still like working for her?”

“I do.”

“When we met, you couldn’t sit still. You bounced around jobs so fast you barely had time to put in your two-week notice!”

“Then your sister asked me to protect her. Everything changed.”

“Yes, everything did.” She agreed though Sandor got the sense that they were talking about different things. “What are you going to do now?”

“Go to the office, get my spare set of house keys because I left my normal set at the Mansion.”

“Are they really going to allow you in there right now? I thought you said the cops have it roped off.”

“I did, and they do. But I have my own place too.”

Arya stopped and looked up at him. “I thought you moved into the Mansion a few years ago?”

“I did.”

“And you have your own place?”

“I have a small house in a hamlet outside the city walls that I couldn’t imagine parting with.”

“So, you’re paying a mortgage on a place that you don’t live in. That’s financially smart.”

“It is.” Sandor insisted. “When I moved into the Mansion, I just moved half of my stuff – clothes and what not – and left the house intact. Tormund moved to town shortly before that and was bouncing around friend’s couches, so I offered it to him. He has been living there since he moved down here. Taking care of the house and keeping it clean – tenanting it. But he left for deployment a few days ago.”

“I guess that’s not _stupid_.”

“You’ll break your sister’s heart now if you don’t actually move up here.” Sandor said after calling the company for a car.

“I wasn’t considering it at all, before you called today.” Arya admitted.

“Then you might as well leave now and not come back. She needs support and reliability. Lies are not welcome.”

“I _wasn’t_ considering it before I got on the plane. But I had six hours to do nothing but think. She’s been on me for years about starting to settle down. Not necessarily with a person, but just roots of some sort. I dunno, I guess this has made me realize that I miss a lot by not have an HQ to go home to between trips. I don’t know when it will happen, I have a lot of sessions coming up in the next few months, but I really like the idea.”

“There’s a difference between liking and implementing.”

“I’ve missed the north.” Arya admitted. “It’s been a while since I’ve come this far north. I love Winterfell and I love the cooler weather. I’ll be coming home soon, Sandor, I’m convinced of that.”

Sandor studied her face for a long minute.

“Good. In the meantime, you can stay at the house if you want to,” Sandor replied. They walked outside to wait for his car.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Wherever you sister goes once she gets out of the hospital, I’ll go there too.”

“You are one loyal puppy dog.”

“It’s my job. And she’s my friend too.” Sandor shrugged. “She’ll need help more now than ever – especially when the news breaks.”

“I would think that Robb will try to get her to live with him for a while – the whole family touch thing.” Arya chuckled. “He got that from our mom. She used to say that family made everything better.”

“Sometimes it does. If that nephew of yours gets too rambunctious though, that wouldn’t be good for her resting and healing.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Bah,” Sandor exhaled as he saw his car pull around the parking lot. “We have time to figure this out, you and me and Robb. With a little input from Sansa.”

“Just to make her feel like she has a little bit of control?”

“Aye, just to make her feel like she has just a little bit of control.” Sandor agreed. The car pulled to a stop at the curb in front of them. “This is me.”

“Take a couple of hours at least, okay puppy dog?” Arya implored. “You need it. We both know you won’t take these breaks as often as you should in the coming days and weeks so make them count when you do.”

“I’ll try, little wolf.”

“One more question?”

“Shoot.”

“How long have you been wearing those clothes?”

Sandor looked down. “Since this morning.”

“I thought you spent the night here.”

“Bronn brought me a change of clothes. I was wearing scrubs.”

Arya burst out laughing. “I would have _loved_ to see that picture! But why!”

“I was covered in blood – mostly Ramsey’s but some of your sister’s too. The cops needed my clothes for evidence.”

“Man, I can’t believe there isn’t a photo of that!”

“With good reason, Wolf.”

Arya laughed. “Well, go shower and change if you need to. Take your time.”

“As long as you take care of your sister while I’m gone.”

“You know I will.” Arya stepped forward and they embraced for a quick second.

Sandor slid into the back of the car and closed the door. He leaned his head back against the head rest, feeling guilty for leaving for a few hours, as the car slipped into the early night traffic of Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such an awkward chapter. I don't love it but I've revised the fuck out of it like three times already. And it's also been a while since I posted, plus I need to reward you all for getting me to 1001 views! So thank you very much! And here you go!!!!
> 
> p.s. you guys all make me feel very special with all the kudos and comments I get. I love you all.


	7. Midnight Morning Errands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The office. His house. The hospital. The Mansion. His house. The lawyers'. The hospital. Late at night to early mid-morning.
> 
> How long can our hero keep this up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on: Arya shows up and gangs up with Sansa against Sandor to force him to take care of himself.
> 
> Notes:  
> \- The longest chapter yet (10,562) I think because it was going to be two chapters but the last scene was so short and wimpy I added it to the previous chapter.
> 
> \- This should be the last set up chapter without much action in it cause things start to heat up after this....
> 
> \- I hope you're in for the long haul cause I don't know how long this'll get....

**Midnight Morning Errands**

“Oh, my gods!” Jeyne exclaimed as she nearly ran smack into Sandor as she exited the elevator. “I’m so so--Oh! Sandor!”

“Steady now, Jeyne,” he chuckled, and pulled two of the bags, of five, off of her shoulder. “When did you turn into a pack mule? Or have you decided to take half the office home with you?”

“Oh no, only two of these bags are mine. Three are for Dr. Stark. I was going to swing by the house and drop them off on my way home.”

“It’s a little out of the way for you, isn’t it?”

“Okay, it’s not _on_ the way home. But this morning you made is sound like Dr. Stark is going to be out of the office for a while. I’ve pulled together some of the usual things she needs when she takes a breather and doesn’t come into the building.”

“Jeyne, you’re a good assistant.”

She beamed. “I try to be. Dr. Stark has been good to me. She gave me a chance after my ex-husband went to prison.”

This surprised Sandor. He’d been working with Jeyne closely for the five years he’d been Sansa’s bodyguard. Plus, everyone knew who Dr. Stark’s assistant was and that she – Jeyne – was almost as much the boss as Sansa; Sandor had exchanged pleasantries with Jeyne numerous times before his promotion. Finding out that Jeyne had been married, let alone to a man now in prison, gave Sandor pause. Though he wasn’t sure why.

“What’d he get put away for?” he asked. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“No, I don’t mind. I used to, mind that is. I used to be afraid to talk about him or even acknowledge that I knew him. But I gave up caring about anything related to him a long time ago – it does wonders for your health and happiness, letting go.” Jeyne laughed and shrugged, “he was arrested and convicted for assault and battery.”

“Bar fight?”

“Nope. Just a drunk old bastard who like hitting his wife.”

Sandor’s stomach dropped out from under him.

“Woah, hey Sandor? Are you okay? You just got really pale.”

Sandor stared blankly at Jeyne’s smooth completion. Her dark brown hair was falling out of her high bun after a long day. Concern wrinkles framed her eyes and her forehead as she stared up at Sandor.

“Sandor? Sandor?” she asked again, touching his elbow hesitantly.

“Are you in a rush?” he suddenly demanded. “To get home?”

“Not tonight,” she stammered, caught off guard, “no.”

“Would you mind coming back upstairs with me? To Dr. Starks office?”

“Sure, I have time,” she said slowly, cautiously, hesitantly. “Is everything okay Sandor?”

“You should know what’s going on.”

“What is going—”

Sandor looked around and found them alone except for the security guard at the front desk.

He leaned over to be closer to her ear and whispered, “you should know what is going on with Sansa,” then straightened up and hit the button to call for the elevator.

Jeyne’s own face paled and Sandor could hear her gulp despite their height differences.

As they waited, he added, “And it’s not really a topic suited to a public lobby.”

“My,” Jeyne reached out for Sandor’s arm and held it to steady herself, “this sounds serious,” Jeyne replied, “more serious than you let on when you called earlier.”

She re-boarded the elevator when the doors opened.

Sandor hit the button and they were whisked to Sansa’s floor. He didn’t say anything. Neither did she. But Jeyne never let go of Sandor’s arm as they walked down the hallway to the large corner office; as if to steady herself.

Sandor paused outside of Sansa’s office. “You’ll have to unlock it.”

Jeyne stared at him in disbelief. Sandor kept his face neutral and expressionless. It was out of the ordinary for him to not be prepared. Even on an evening or day off. Jeyne shook her head and raised her eyebrows but said nothing as she dug around in her purse.

“Where are your keys?” she finally asked, after she found the key ring and was letting them in.

“I left them at the Mansion,” Sandor turned on the overhead light and closed the door behind them.

Jeyne sat the bags she was carrying on the floor next to the door and stretched her wrist. “You’ve never forgotten them before, Sandor. Not in five years. And if rumors are true, not even in the years you worked for Dr. Stark before she brought you upstairs.”

Sandor sat the bags he had relieved Jeyne of next to the door as well then motioned for her to take a seat. Jeyne sat on the couch but eyed him wearily. She fidgeted with the hem of her blouse, clearly nervous.

Sandor sat next to her.

“I didn’t exactly have time to grab everything – or anything – that I needed,” Sandor replied to her observation. “There was a lot going on in the moment. And there’s a lot that you missed since yesterday.”

Then Sandor told Jeyne everything…almost. From getting home to finding Sansa to getting her to the hospital to Arya arriving. He left out the more personal details, but he didn’t sugar coat that it had been Ramsey who had assaulted Sansa.

Jeyne’s hands were shaking before he finished his rushed tale; one on her mouth and the other covering her heart. She was pale and her breathing was erratic.

Sandor stood and crossed the office quickly. He poured her a glass of water and sat back down. When he held it out to her, she didn’t acknowledge what he was doing. Sandor gently took her wrist to pull it away from her mouth and pressed the class into her hand. He let go when he was sure she had a firm grasp on the water class. Still she didn’t move. Sandor nudged her arm up and Jeyne blinked rapidly, coming out of her daze.

“I can’t imagine what this is bringing back for you.” Sandor said softly, lightly patting her comfortingly on the knee.

“A lot,” she admitted. “It’s bringing back a lot of memories I had all but forgotten about.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Jeyne closed her eyes and shook her head, “thank you, but don’t feel bad. I’d rather know.”

“You’re the third person I’ve had to inform today,” Sandor admitted, rubbing his beard, “I can’t say it’s getting easier.”

“Only two other people?” Jeyne wondered, opening her eyes.

“Robb didn’t want me to tell Jon yet and they’re afraid Rick is too unstable to healthily handle the news right now. Arya just flew up from the South.”

“Gods have mercy on them,” she muttered. “I cannot imagine what they must be going through. My own parents had died before I was married, and I never had siblings.”

“You were on your own?”

“No, I’d met a tall auburn stranger with piercing blue eyes a few months before. We became friends when she kept coming into the diner I worked at and always sat in my section. Her tips were unnecessarily big,” Jayne smiled sadly. “She was coming over under the guise of being a coworker who had borrowed my one of my uniforms for work and was returning it washed and heard a commotion in the house. She looked through the front window and saw…well saw what was happening. She called the cops and was there at my side the whole time.”

“That sounds like something Sansa would do.”

Jeyne chuckled and wiped a tear from her eye, “she later told me she was really coming over to offer me a job at her new company. She needed an assistant. So when I recovered, she hired me on the spot. Gave me time off for therapy and was understanding on the days the depression was so bad I couldn’t get out of bed. And when the trial came around, well Sansa was there holding my hand every step of the way.”

“I’m glad you had at least her,” Sandor replied sincerely.

“Me too. Gods, my heart breaks for her right now,” Jeyne sniffled. Sandor handed her a tissue and she blue her nose, thanking him. “But you know? I never suspected. I, of all people should have seen _some_ sort of sign. But I never did Sandor, I never suspected.”

“No one did,” Sandor said though his thoughts screamed, _I did! I knew_!

“And she’s okay? I mean, she’s not in any sort of danger from her injuries?”

“She’s really shaken up, and the doctors think she’s still in shock,” Sandor admitted, “but physically she’ll be fine. Nothing that won’t heal quickly.”

“That’s why you needed the clothes. And why you don’t have your keys,” Jeyne realized. “The police have locked down the Mansion. They did that to our house too. They finally allowed me to go back in there, but I never wanted to again. Sansa went in and got me the essentials and handled the estate sale for me. I’ve never set foot again on that property. I suspect Sansa won’t want to either.”

“I’d assume you’re right.”

“And what a shame, it’s her ancestral home too.”

“I don’t know what she, or Robb and Arya, will want to do, but we’re days away from her being released from the hospital, at least days, if not longer. And weeks probably from being allowed back in the house.”

“Gods,” Jeyne muttered again. She daintily rubbed underneath her eyes to clear her tears without smearing her mascara before clearing her throat.

“Jeyne you said something…”

Jeyne smiled and gave Sandor’s wrist a squeeze, “Go on, big guy. Spit it out. You know almost everything now. I don’t mind questions – especially if it will help Sansa.”

“No, I get that, it’s just…well it’s just I don’t know how to word it sensitively. I don’t want to be insensitive.”

“Spit it out then. I’ll correct you. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Sandor nodded. “I guess. So…you said that you were in therapy…”

“For a long time. I still go every other week. I don’t need it now to cope with the abuse, but it is nice to just talk with someone.”

“But right after he went to jail?”

“Twice a week – sometimes three times. Whatever I needed.”

Sandor breathed through his mouth slowly. “I guess Sansa will have to do therapy.”

Jeyne nodded, “I suspect she will – and she should.”

Sandor didn’t respond, lost in thought.

“Sandor you didn’t tell me the whole story, did you?”

He glanced up at her. “No.”

“And you won’t tell me the rest.”

“Not yet.”

“It’s worse?”

“Yes.”

“Wow,” Jeyne rubbed her thighs anxiously. “Yeah, she should go to therapy Sandor. It helps. It really, really does.”

More silence ensued as Sandor’s thoughts ran wild. There was so much to be set up and vetted for Sansa. They had to find the right therapist in a secluded office. And they would have to be okay with Sandor being there. Of course, he’d stay outside the room, but he would refuse to be more than a few feet away from the door. Just as he had for five years in every other aspect of Sansa’s life. He’d be there for every step of the way including…

“Jeyne, you said you had depression.”

“I mean, I still struggle with it sometimes, but it was very bad back then. Especially when I was still in the marriage.”

“Fuck,” Sandor groaned, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

“Sandor?”

Seven Hells, he should have seen it years ago. Poor Sansa. The exhaustion, the fatigue, the lack of appetite, the increase in time off – when they were away on business trips. He should have gotten her help. He should have _at least_ done this.

“Sandor?”

“Hmm?”

“Where’d you go?”

“Oh, uh, just thinking about everything that needs to be done.”

“It’s overwhelming,” Jeyne agreed. “But she’s not doing it alone – and neither are you. You have Robb and Arya and I.”

“Will you be okay with that?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Jeyne smiled. Then she cleared her throat, as understanding set in for her, just as it was on Sandor. “So, uh, ha ha…what do I do Sandor? What can I do?”

“I guess, just keep her company rolling forwards.”

“But I can’t do that! I’m not half as clever as she is.”

“That’s not true. She wouldn’t have kept you around this long if you weren’t.”

“I don’t know Sandor…”

“You don’t have to make any drastic changes. Just don’t let things fall apart. Meet with her clients – at least the ones that can’t have cancelled meetings. You’re in them anyways. Take the detailed notes that I know you already do. You see nearly every piece of paper that comes across her desk. Do what you can and set aside what you can’t or are not comfortable with. I’ll take that pile to Sansa when she starts feeling up to working a little bit.”

“And what do I say to the clients and partners and everyone else?”

“Tell them a family matter has come up. Everyone is fine, but Dr. Stark needs to take a few weeks off. She’ll only be addressing the most major of concerns. The rest, you’ll handle and delegate to appropriate associates and partners around the company. Dr. Stark will not be taking any phone calls and will not be answering emails.”

“Everything is okay, just some family time and a bit of rest. I’m in charge and will get the appropriate messages to Dr. Stark, should she need to see them,” Jeyne repeated.

“Exactly. Do you have access to her computer?”

Jeyne looked at him as though he were crazy. “Sandor, you should know better. _I_ am the organized one. Dr. Stark can’t keep her digital life clean for more than a few minutes. I already answer a lot of her emails. I have access to everything. I’m pretty much the clone of Dr. Stark without the great looks and genius brain. I am pretty and not stupid, but Sansa is on a whole other level.”

“A different level than most people.” Sandor agreed, laughing.

“Wow.” Jeyne said suddenly, leaning back. “A lot of things just changed.”

“Aye.”

“I’m glad the Mansion is so secluded and on private, completely gated grounds. No one is likely to go sniffing around their – no more than usual that is and even then, they’re not going to see anything.”

“Me too. And I think this goes without saying Jeyne, but I am going to say it anyways because not only is it my job but I, like you, care about Sansa and want the best for her, want her to rest and heal and overcome.”

“Oh, you don’t even have to say it, Sandor,” Jeyne interrupted him, “you can believe that I won’t say a word. No one will know what’s happened Sandor. _If_ anyone finds out, it will not be from my lips, but they will be swiftly dealt with. By me.”

Sandor nodded, satisfied. “I haven’t come to any conclusions yet, but I think I may bring in Bronn and Lothar. Perhaps Maya too.”

“I thought Lord Bolton was dead. Why does she need so much security?

“Not so much to use them in a bodyguard sense, but rather a security sense, for when the levees inevitably break and the media catches on. The three of them are extremely professional and tight-lipped individuals. Discretion is one of their best qualities. It’s what Sansa needs right now. Almost more than anything,” Sandor explained.

“Did you leave her alone?”

Sandor shook his head vigorously, no, Arya is with Sansa now. They’ve convinced me to take a break, go home and sleep, that sort of thing.”

“But you’re here instead,” she pointed out.

“As just a stop on the way home!” he insisted. “Arya and I can’t split the days of guarding Sansa between the two of us. Because right now we’re also actively trying to keep her calm and focused on things other than the attack. Having one person on guard at all times frees Arya and I up to focusing on Sansa. Lothar, Bronn, and Maya can also help ferry things between you and I. Bronn is my second in command. He runs this place when I’m not here so obviously he needs to be informed. Maya and Lothar can do anything and that’s good; I don’t know what else we’ll be needing in the next couple of weeks. Who is the driver who Sansa prefers?”

“Do you mean Pod?”

“Yeah him. Where has he been?”

“Being the best man at his best friend’s wedding.”

“He’s been gone for like a month.”

“The wedding was in Mereen.”

“Well,” Sandor raised his eyebrows, “don’t we all wish we could take a month of and dick around in Mereen for a wedding. When is he coming back?”

Jeyne stood and flipped through a date book on Sansa’s desk. “In a week.”

“When he gets back, I’ll only use him to drive Sansa.”

“I don’t know, Sandor. That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“What do you mean?”

Jeyne wrung her hands before straightening the desk nervously. “Pod looks a bit like Lord Bolton, don’t you think?”

“No, I’ve never really considered that.”

“Well then, take my advice. Pod looks a bit like Lord Bolton,” Jeyne insisted. “Don’t use Pod – at least for a while.”

“I don’t follow why.”

“Once, when I was at the market a man reached passed me to pick up something. It was really crowded and normally, it shouldn’t have bothered me, but I happened to look at his face. I nearly threw up all over the fruit stand. He looked enough like my ex-husband – who was supposed to be in custody – that I had an anxiety attack. This man’s arm moving so close to my face made me think that my ex was about to punch me.”

“And Pod kind of looks like Ramsey,” Sandor nodded, understanding now. “Okay. Do you recommend someone then?”

“Ellyana is discreate, smart, and she’s a woman.”

“When does she work next?”

“She had a day off yesterday and today. But starts back up in the morning.” Jeyne said, consulting the computer this time.

“Fill her in when she gets in, in the morning.”

“Everything?”

“No, mostly just that she’ll be on special assignment for Dr. Stark. That means she won’t be driving anyone else around but Sansa and anyone who is doing something for Sansa. It’ll be boring for her.”

“Then she’ll get to live with a boring assignment,” Jeyne said dismissably with a wave of her hand. “I’ll come up with something to tell Pod. He’ll think he’s being demoted.”

“He can fucking live with the change of assignments.”

“Yes, there is plenty to do in the meantime,” Jeyne agreed. “What else?”

“That’s everything I think.” Sandor said, reviewing his mental check list.

“Do I call you or Sansa’s number? If I need to reach one of you.”

“My number. Sansa’s phone got smashed in the attack.”

Jeyne could hardly contain her sudden burst of laughter, “Gods, you’re going to hate this, Sandor! You revel in not having a lot of people contacting you.”

“I am already hating this. I called you, Arya, Robb, and the lawyers this morning. The same number keeps calling me but won’t leave a message. I think it’s the detective.”

“You should probably answer that.”

“Eventually,” Sandor agreed. “When he leaves a message.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

“Yes, yes I am.”

“I guess I’m going to echo Dr. Stark and her sister’s words. Get out of here. Go home. Rest. Even though we both know you are just going to go shower, grab a bite to eat, pack some clothes, and go back to the hospital.”

“Am I that predictable?” Sandor asked standing.

“When it comes to Dr. Stark? Yes,” Jeyne replied kindly. “We all know.”

“Know what?”

“Nothing,” Jeyne waved her hand, dismissing the comment.

“Which one is her clothes?” Sandor asked, looking at the bags on the floor.

“The bigger one. The rest is work stuff. Leave that all with me.”

“I thought you wanted to take stuff to Sansa?”

“Now I need to rethink what to send her right now. She shouldn’t be worrying about much. I can handle a lot of it.”

“I’ll get going then. Would you like me to walk you down to your car?”

“Oh no, don’t wait on me.” Jeyne said, sitting down at Sansa’s desk. “There’s a few things I want to do tonight to set up for this R&R break.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am”

“You have a good night then Jeyne. Drive safe.”

“Thanks Sandor. Give Sansa my best!”

Sandor took the elevator down to his locker and keyed it open with the pin pad. He pulled out his spare set of keys and stuffed dirty laundry into his gym bag. He locked up and rang down for a car before making the trek himself.

The drive across the city was easy and light in traffic. The streetlamps whizzed by and soon they left the city walls. It had been a few months since he’d been back to his house. It was stranger than the bodyguard would have imagined. As they pulled in, Sandor tried to push away his feelings about using the company car service to ferry him home. He knew Sansa wouldn’t mind but it still made him feel uneasy.

“Would you like me to stay and wait, sir?” the chauffer asked, opening his door.

Sandor stood and pat the man on the shoulder. “No, thank you though. Have a good evening.”

“You as well, Sir.”

Sandor rolled his eyes but ignore the comment otherwise. He lumbered up the front walk and opened the front door. He peeled off his dirty, stinky clothes in the small closet-like room and started a load of laundry. Walking around the house naked, Sandor watered Tormund’s plants and put away the clean dishes from the dishwasher. He climbed the stairs to the second-floor master suite and turned on the shower. While the water warmed up – and it always took so long with his eco-friendly water tank that Tormund had insisted on upgrading him to – Sandor packed a couple sets of clothes for the hospital and repacked his gym bag. The shower was steaming now in the cool bathroom air, so Sandor stepped in and rolled his shoulders forward.

He groaned out loud as the hot water ran over his tired muscles. He rubbed soap over his body, then scrubbed his skin raw with a washcloth. He took care to make sure his burn scars were clean before washing his hair. Though he had no reason to remain in the water, Sandor couldn’t force himself out of the shower.

Instead, he sank to the floor and leaned against the wall. With his eyes closed he saw Sansa laying on the bedroom floor all over again. He imagined Ramsey pushing her with enough force to smash not only the glass doors of the china cabinet, but also the glass shelves and the china itself. He refused to allow himself to imagine those last moments before Sansa was able to get the upper hand over her sadistic husband. Instead, he tried to think about her clinging to him and begging him not to leave her; how she reached out to him for comfort and security. She’d always done that, hadn’t she? Chosen him as her safe person? Sandor drifted off into a light nap, thinking about holding her and making the demons and the pain go away.

Sandor jerked awake when the water turned icy cold. He turned off the shower and shook himself free of most of the water. He toweled down quickly and crossed the bedroom to his dresser. He pulled on clean small clothes and socks. He found one of his softer white tee shirts and pulled it on. He heard the washer beep. Sandor switched out the clothes into the dryer before sitting on the edge of his bed. The alarm clock read that it was almost midnight. As much as he wanted to lay back in his bed and sleep, Sandor wanted to get back to the hospital more and check on Sansa. Arya hadn’t text him but that didn’t mean much; it’d be like her to refuse to message him all night. He pulled on jeans and a long sleeve shirt and his black boots.

He went downstairs and glanced in the refrigerator. Tormund had cleaned out anything that would perish soon. Sandor grabbed a granola bar from the cabinet and picked up the bags. He turned off the light and locked his little house up before walking around to the detached garage. He opened the door and uncovered his motorcycle. He secured the bags in place with a bungee cord netting. On the shelf on one wall, he pulled off two helmets. One for him and a smaller one for the Little Wolf. He clipped the second helmet in place before putting his on. He zipped up his leather jacket and slid gloves over his worn and dry hands. Sandor backed his motorcycle out of the garage and closed the door, locking it, before he started the engine. It had been a while since he had ridden. A gleeful smile brightened his face.

Sandor sped off to the hospital.

He managed to find a close parking spot and carried everything inside. One of the nurses at the double doors to Sansa’s ward insisted on going through and checking the bags. Sandor unzipped them and waited patiently for him to be satisfied that Sandor wasn’t there to do any harm.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, I understand,” Sandor replied truthfully.

“Well, you’re good to go.”

“Thanks.” Sandor replied. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

Sandor walked down the hall. He paused, took a deep breath, and then pushed the partially closed hospital room door open as quietly as he could.

Arya was lying in bed with Sansa, curled up at her side with her head on the crux of Sansa’s shoulder. Sansa’s arm was around Arya’s shoulder. Arya was fast asleep. Sansa on the other hand, was not. She saw Sandor right away and smiled.

“You’re back,” she whispered.

“Of course.”

“It’s still the middle of the night.”

“Aye.”

“What’s it like tonight?”

“It’s a clear autumn night. Brisk but not cold. Hardly a breeze.” Sandor sat the bags on the floor and walked to the side of the bed. He pointed at Arya. “What’d you do to tucker the little wolf out?”

“We talked a bit, but most just laid here.”

“Do you want me to move her to the chair?”

“No, let her sleep there. I like having her close,” Sansa smiled at her sister. “This reminds me of when she was a baby.”

“Was she such a little shit then too?”

“Oh yes,” Sansa’s eyes twinkled. “She’s mellowed out since then. What’d you bring in the bags?”

“Jeyne packed you some clothes from the office and I have some for me as well.”

“Did you tell her?”

“Jeyne?”

Sansa nodded.

“I told her the basics, I told her,” Sandor replied sitting down, “enough. She’ll keep things running while you rest.”

“I should go to work tomorrow though. I can’t be away for long.”

Sandor grunted, “Physically that’s not going to happen. The doctors told you that you can’t do much for at least a week because of the ribs. Maybe longer. We’ll keep you out of the spotlight for as long as possible.”

“It won’t last very long though.”

“You’re right.”

“Someone will find out that something gruesome happened at the Stark-Bolton house. It’ll leak. Things like this always do.”

“All the more reason to keep you out of the public eye. You don’t need that kind of stress right now.”

“Will you stop me if I walk out of the hospital and try to go to work?”

“Yes,” Sandor said confidently. “Yes, I will. You hired me for your security and protection. In this scenario, I seem to be keeping you from hurting yourself.”

“You’re too kind.”

Sandor chuckled. “And you’re too headstrong.”

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

“A pair that’s going to make me vomit,” Arya mumbled.

“Look who was sleeping on the job,” Sandor ribbed.

“I was awake the second you put down the bags.”

“Sure.”

“Believe what you will,” Arya said, yawning and sitting up. “Sorry Sansa. I might have drooled on your shoulder.”

“Won’t be the first time,” Sansa said.

“Have you slept yet, Little Bird?” Sandor wondered. Dark circles were emerging under Sansa’s eyes – dark circles that had nothing to do with bruising from the assault.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come back.”

“I’m here for a bit.”

“So am I.”

Sandor turned around as Robb came back into the room. He wore sweats and a hoodie.

Sandor grinned, “Did you just roll out of bed, Wolf King?”

“Actually yes. I tried to lay down and sleep, but I couldn’t. I wanted to come and check on you, SanSan.” Robb leaned over Arya and kissed Sansa on the ear.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she replied happily. “I have everyone I need in this room.”

“Actually,” Sandor interrupted, “can I steal Arya for about half an hour?”

“What’s wrong?” Sansa asked, her eyes darkening with fear.

“Absolutely nothing.” Sandor rubbed an unscratched part of her cheek. I have to go get my SUV from the Mansion. I’ve got my motorcycle here, but I have to tote somethings to the lawyers’ office in the morning. Can’t do that on a bike. Figured I’d steal Arya to go to the Mansion with me and then she can take my bike back here. She’ll need her own set of wheels while she’s in town. She can borrow the bike.”

“Really?” Arya’s eyebrows raised with excitement. “You _never_ let anyone ride that antique beauty.”

“It’s been sitting idle for a while. It’d be good to get some exercise,” Sandor admitted. “This way I also have my car available too.”

“You’re going back to the house?” Sansa pursed her lips.

“Not inside. Just to get my car. I doubt I’ll be allowed inside for a while.”

“Okay,” She nodded, “I don’t want you going inside.”

Sandor nodded, not wanting to argue. He didn’t particularly want to go inside either.

“Do you want to go now?” Arya asked.

“I’ll stay here,” Robb offered.

“If you’re awake enough,” Sandor replied, answering both questions at once.

“Yup,” Arya hopped off the bed and slipped back into her boots.

“Are you coming right back?” Sansa asked Sandor.

“In a couple of hours,” he replied. “Maybe midday.”

“Why so long?”

“I have to pull some things together for the lawyers so I can take it to them first thing in the morning when the firm opens. I’d rather just do it right now to make the trip downtown shorter tomorrow.”

Sansa nodded but her eyebrows were pulled together. “Is everything okay?”

“Nothing to worry about right now. Just some information they need from me.”

“You said boxes though.”

“I’m giving them everything. They’ll sift through it and use what they need.”

“I’ll wait up for you.”

Sandor shook his head. “Don’t you dare. Get your sleep and the time will fly by. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I suppose.”

“Rest for now, little bird. Tomorrow we’ll have to start making a lot of decisions. They won’t be easy.”

“And you’ll be there to help me the whole way?”

“Aye, love, I’ll be there the whole time.” Sandor leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. “How’s the pain right now?”

“Much better than a moment ago.”

“Good. Sleep tight. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Sandor and Arya left the hospital in silence. They climbed on the bike and drove off in silence too. Sandor pulled over just before the turn off to the Mansion.

“Is everything okay?” Arya asked over Sandor’s big shoulder.

“Yeah, it only just hit me that I don’t know _if_ I can go get my SUV. I just assumed I could.”

“Can you call someone?”

“Yeah, I’m going to try the detective. If that doesn’t pan out, I’m calling the lawyers.” Sandor stood, straddling the bike and fished his phone out of his pocket. He sat back down and dialed.

It rang a few times before the detective answered. “Hullo?”

“Detective! It’s Sandor Clegane.”

“Oh. Mr. Clegane. It’s awfully late or rather early to be calling, don’t you think?”

“I apologize sir, did I wake you up?”

The detective groaned. “No, actually, you didn’t. I thought of something and am following where that train leads.”

“Great minds think alike then.”

“What are you getting at Mr. Clegane?”

“I’m going to need my SUV tomorrow, err later today. It’s currently parked in my spot, at the Stark-Bolton residence. Is there going to be trouble if I try and go get it? _Can_ I go get it?”

“Which vehicle is it?”

“The black SUV. There weren’t any other cars parked in the courtyard when I came home the other night.”

“License Plate N-33428?”

“Yes sir. That’s me.”

“Okay. I’m looking at it right here.”

“You’re at the house?”

“Yeah, I told you, I thought of something,” the detective said dismissively. “You’ll just have to come up and sign for it. CCTV footage corroborates your statement you gave at the hospital. You drove home alone and went in the house. Your vehicle has been searched, just for your information, but it came up clean.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear,” Sandor replied sarcastically.

“The attitude is unappreciated, Mr. Clegane.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, you can come by and get it. What are you currently driving?”

“A motorcycle.”

“And how do you plan on leaving with both vehicles?”

“I have a friend with me to drive the bike back. Is that alright?”

“Sure. What’s the friend’s name?”

“Arya Stark.”

“Mr. Clegane, this is serious business if you plan on interfering with the ongoing investigation. Bringing another Stark to the house was a stupid move.”

“Sir, she is only here to drive the motorcycle for me. She’s in town to be with her sister and needs a set of wheels herself. She’s borrowing it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be worrying too much about getting my SUV back so soon,” Sandor explained. “We just want to come get the truck and be gone. We’ll be in and out in a manner of minutes.”

There was silence for a moment. “Okay, Mr. Clegane. You’ve been warned: we will not take interference lightly. The perimeter officers at the main gate will be expecting you and Ms. Stark. You’ll come in, get the truck, and leave. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.”

“When will we be expecting you?”

“A few minutes. We’re just about to turn on the lane.”

“I see,” the detective replied coldly. “Is there anything else I can help you, Mr. Clegane?”

“Yes, actually, but it is not as pressing and can be addressed at a later date.”

“What might that be?”

“I have a list of things I will need from my quarters inside the Mansion. Laptop, clothes, keys, notes, files – you get what I’m saying. I’m still drawing the list up, so I don’t have it at the moment.”

“Good. Anything that is inside the house and is being asked to be removed and not for evidentiary purpose must go through official requests.”

“Would our lawyers know how to do that?”

“Yes, yes they would.”

“Fantastic, they’ll be in touch with you soon regarding my effects. I’ll see you in a minute, detective.”

“Good night, Mr. Clegane.”

Sandor stood and repocketed his phone. Arya was laughing. “You just _had_ to bring up the lawyers didn’t you.”

“Yes, I did.”

“To piss him off?”

“And to remind him that I’m not some average dummy who he can jerk around. The lawyers were not happy I spoke with him without their presence. I didn’t realize I needed them there. They didn’t attempt to give me the chance to call representation. Now they know that Sansa’s lawyers are my lawyers and he already knows that they’re the best of the best.”

“You’re good at this mind game shit.” Arya cackled.

“I think it’s the real reason Sansa keeps me around,” Sandor called back as he started the bike again.

“Why is that again?”

“Because we can word spar and I can keep up as she puzzles through decisions she’s trying to make.”

“Does she pay you enough for all that you do for her?”

“She pays me too much,” Sandor roared, laughing. “Has from the start. I tried to tell her that but every year I get a raise.”

“Clearly she values you more than you do.”

“I hope that’s true,” Sandor said and sped forwards sending gravel trailing behind them.

It took them only a few minutes to speed around the turns and wind their way to the house that Arya grew up in. She clenched her fists around Sandor’s jacket as they approached the gates.

An armed officer stood in front of them and waved for them to stop. Sandor did, leaving his bike idling. The officer approached them cautiously, eyeing Sandor’s size. “Sir, this is an active crime scene, you’ll have to turn around and go home.”

“Detective Whitehall is expecting me. I’m here to pick up my SUV.”

“Your name, sir?”

“Sandor Clegane.”

The officer stepped back and spoke into his radio. He nodded when he received a reply. “Mr. Clegane, can I please see your driver’s license. And I am assuming you are Mrs. Stark?”

“Yes,” Arya replied, not bothering to correct the marriage distinction. It wasn’t worth the waste of words. Not at two in the morning.

“I’ll need to see yours as well.”

“Sure.” Arya reached into her leather jacket and pulled out a compact wallet. She passed him her license while Sandor stood and pulled out his own wallet. He didn’t need to stand to pull it out. But it was fun nonetheless to show off his size to the much shorter, skinnier officer.

The officer stepped back, verified their identities, and gave them back their cards. He waved to his partner in the gate house and the large iron gate slid sideways. Sandor smiled and revved the engine.

At the courtyard, Detective Whitehall was standing next to Sandor’s SUV, waiting for them. Sandor parked the bike a bit away off from his truck. Arya climbed off so he could swing his leg over. She was eyeing the detective.

Sandor flicked her chin towards him with a finger. “Hey, never you mind him.”

“I’m just checking him out.”

“To fuck him or to play political games with him?”

“Haven’t decided yet. You turned my head before I could decide.”

“Well do neither,” Sandor instructed. “I get the feeling that he’s not our friend in this situation.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just the vibes I’ve gotten from him,” Sandor shrugged. “Stay away from him. If he tries to talk to you, ignore him. Then call me and I’ll call the lawyers.”

“You’re really not okay with him, are you?”

“No.”

“I outrank him on so many levels it’s not even funny.” Arya smirked.

“Don’t go throwing your weight around either. What ever happens now, Sansa doesn’t need problems because some detective nobody whines to the court or ethics committee that intimidation tactics were used or we attempted bribery or tried to interfere or influence the investigation in any way shape or form. You hear me?”

“Yeah, I get it. Don’t fuck with this cause it effects Sansa more than me.”

“Exactly.”

“Good. Now go on, get back to the hospital. I’ll be there in a few hours.”

Arya eyed Sandor closely, “What do you have to do now?”

“I have some things that the lawyers are going to be very interested in. It’s going to take some time to box it up with an itemized list, so I’ll know if anything goes missing, and then I have to take it to them and explain what it is. It should take only a couple of hours to pull this together. I’ll grab a nap in my own bed and then go to the office early to meet with the lawyers.”

“She’s going to be wondering where you’ve disappeared to.”

“Tell her I’m working with the lawyers.”

“That’s not a lie.”

“No, I don’t lie – especially not to your sister,” Sandor reminded her. “But don’t give her all of the information. I should be back to the hospital no later than ten or eleven in the morning. Tell her that, and that once I do this, I shouldn’t have to leave her side except for food and a quick piss.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

“If it makes you feel better.”

“Eh, but she’ll get mad at me for using that language and that’s the fun part.”

“You’ve been away for a bit, little wolf,” Sandor said. “Your sister doesn’t have such a clean mouth anymore.”

Arya raised her eyebrow and grinned. “Good!” She shrieked and sped off laughing all the way. She waved to the officers in the gate house and disappeared.

Sandor turned around and walked to the detective.

“Mr. Clegane.”

“Detective.”

“I was worried about the younger Stark – that she might be an issue.”

Sandor chuckled. “No sir. She won’t be an issue until you cause an issue. She’s here only to be there for her sister.”

“I suppose the whole Stark clan has returned to Winterfell then?”

“Perhaps,” Sandor replied shrugging. “They love their sister.”

“And that makes me suspicious of them.”

“Listen, detective, it’s been a long day. Can I just get my SUV and go home?”

“What? Not back to the hospital?” he leered. “I thought you wouldn’t leave Dr. Stark’s side.”

“I have some business to take care of for Dr. Stark. Besides, her family is there. She’s not alone. I’ll be back soon enough.”

“Very well,” the detective took a step aside and Sandor pulled his spare keys out. “Drive safe, Mr. Clegane. We’ll be in touch soon.”

Sandor opened his door but turned around before he got in. “Oh, I have since been told to tell you to not call me directly. To reach me, go through the lawyers.”

“The team that Dr. Stark has hired?”

“The very same.”

“I take it they’ll be representing you as well as Dr. Stark?”

“Yes.” Sandor smiled, “See you later, detective.”

He slid in and closed the door.

Sandor had almost made it. He was driving down the hill, leaving the property when he looked back at the house. And he felt bile climb his throat. He clamped his mouth shut and pressed his foot harder into the peddle. He never wanted to go back there. He never wanted to have to deal with the Mansion again. But his gut told him that wasn’t the case. Sandor slumped in his seat and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the song on the radio as he drove home.

Standing at the doorway to his walk-in closet, Sandor’s breath caught in his throat. The task at hand seemed monumental. Sure, he’d kept up with itemizing everything every few weeks to a month. But now he had to double check everything.

“Sort everything tonight, lad, by every month or so, and do the cataloguing in the morning,” he told himself. “Then get some sleep. She needs you.”

Taking a deep breath, Sandor stepped inside and pulled out the first box, from nearly five years previously. He sat it on the floor. Holding his breath as if expecting a foul odor, he opened the box and pulled out the contents in gallon bags. Slowly he checked each date and arranged them in order in a row. When that box was empty, he pulled out the next one and emptied it. Then the next box. And the next. And the next.

After almost two hours, Sandor sank onto his ass, leaning against the door jamb to his room. Before him sat more than a hundred bags. _How on earth had that number gotten so high?_

“You’ve sorted it out. Go to bed,” he mumbled.

Standing, his knees cracked. Sandor brushed his teeth and moved gingerly across the room to the bed. To ensure that he woke at the littlest noise, Sandor kept his nightstand lamp on, the window cracked to keep the room chilly, and he slept on top of his quilt, fully dressed with his shoes on, under only a light throw. His phone was charging next to his head, all possible ring and text tone settings turned on full volume. Still, as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

When he woke in the morning, his alarm was going off and the sky was starting to turn yellow. Sandor sat bolt up and grabbed his phone. Zero missed phone calls and no messages from Arya or Robb. No messages from anyone. Sighing, Sandor rubbed his face.

 _That’s a good thing_ , he tried remaining himself, _no news is good news._

Sandor stretched and refolded the blanket over the footboard. He closed the window in case it rained while he was gone. _Fucking Northern unpredictable weather_ , he huffed as he walked into the kitchen _, not like the Westerlands. If it says it’ll rain there, it’ll rain. Here? Meh it might, it might not._

Sandor opened the fridge to pour a bowl of cereal but was harshly reminded that there was no milk. Grumbling to himself, he set about making a pot of coffee.

 _You’d think after more than ten fucking years of living north of the Neck, I’d be used to the weather,_ he chuckled to himself. _Nah, who the fuck am I kidding?_

The coffee beeped and Sandor poured himself an extra-large mug.

_I came north to work for an auburn-haired Little Bird._

He poured the rest into a large travel mug and sealed it tight.

 _She isn’t much a little bird anymore,_ he surmised. _No, she’s a proper wolf and has been for years._

Sandor leaned back against the counter and crossed his ankles, looking out into the back garden. It was getting shabby.

_Should probably call the gardener to prep the grounds for winter._

Sandor barked out a laugh that echoed in the silent house.

_Winter is Coming indeed._

“Finish the project, Clegane. Just get it done with,” he finally ordered himself.

Lumbering up the stairs, Sandor paused to adjust the thermostat. Once in his room, he pulled out the binder and crouched at the first bag. The date and description matched with the binder, so he put it back in the box. Same with the next one. On down the line Sandor went.

At a quarter till seven, Sandor stacked the last box on the landing and chuckled at himself, “Of course everything was correct, you meticulous bastard.”

Sandor began carrying the boxes down the stairs and loading them into his SUV. After only a moment of digging around in his garage he found a carpet dolly and tossed that in the boot too. He grabbed the travel mug and another granola bar before walking around the house and checking the windows and the doors. Once the house was sealed up, pulled on a hoodie under his jacket and walked outside. He climbed into his vehicle and began the trek across the city.

Minutes after eight, he arrived at the high-end high-rise. Sandor parked in the garage next door and carefully stacked the boxes on the dolly, locked his SUV, and then pushed it towards the elevator. On the fortieth floor, he walked across the polished marble lobby and cleared his throat. The secretary looked up and blinked a few moments.

“I was told to expect you at any time,” she replied with a kind smile. She stood and locked her computer. “They’ve sat down not too long ago for a meeting. You’ll be very welcome to join, Mr. Clegane.”

Sandor nodded.

“Please follow me.”

Sandor nodded again and followed her down the hallway.

She slowed at a conference room. Knocking twice and opening the door anyways, she stuck her head in the room.

“Mr. Clegane is here,” the secretary announced, holding the glass door open to the conference room.

“Thanks.” Sandor said politely as he backed in, pulling the hand truck with him. It was piled with three file boxes, neatly labeled and a packet stacked on top of the top box’s lid. Sandor sat the boxes against the wall and turn around to shake the hands of the lawyers.

“Something to drink?” The secretary asked.

“The water in here is fine, thanks.” Sandor replied, pointing to the side table with a pitcher of water and a stack of glasses.

“Of course.” She nodded her head and backed out, closing the door behind her.

“Mr. Clegane, it’s been a while.” Mrs. Tradd said, motioning for Sandor to take a seat.

“Good to see you awake.” One of the lawyers teased.

“It was a rough night.” Sandor shrugged.

“I can’t imagine. Dr. Stark seemed very pleased that you were finally resting. She is very fond of you, Mr. Clegane.”

“Sandor, please.” Sandor said. “At least in private meetings like this.”

“Dr. Stark insists the same.” Another lawyer replied.

“Please forgive me,” Sandor smiled sheepishly, “though I know all of your names, I’ve forgotten most of them in reference with your faces.”

“Corren Botley.” The lawyer who had just spoken replied.

“Mikal Porter.” Said another, waving.

“Katryna Blackmont.” A third said.

“Tarla Clarick.” Said the fourth.

“Dallar Norrey.” Said the fifth.

“Dr. Sansa Stark’s dream team of lawyers.” Sandor whistled. “At least you’re better than the last hacks who lost part of her company in a pre-nup contract.”

“That was…unfortunate.” Portal said, scratching his beard. “We’ve had a small number of staffers searching for a loophole or some way to fix that issue since she hired us.”

“And have you?”

“We believe so yes. We were to meet with Dr. Stark early next week to decide how to proceed.”

“I was under the impression she was going to meet with you to discuss divorcing Lord Bolton.” Sandor replied.

“That’s why I’m on the team.” Blackmont spoke up. She was one of the top divorce attorneys north of the God’s Eye. “I’ve been working on how to get her a divorce without losing the company. Divorce and the pre-nup stupidity are all very intertwined. Hence, one meeting.”

“With Lord Bolton’s passing though,” Tradd reminded them, “this issue is now moot. Pending the surfacing of a will from Lord Bolton, all of Lord Bolton’s assess and properties revert to Dr. Stark’s possession.”

“Is the Pre-nup really that simple?” Sandor wondered.

“Not in writing, but yes, kind of. The death of a spouse was not addressed in the pre-nup, leaving up to the law to decide. In the North, everything goes to the spouse unless otherwise dictated in the will.”

“Of which none has been found yet?” Sandor clarified.

“Correct.”

“I can’t imagine Sansa wanting anything from him besides what’s hers. The company mostly.”

“Deciding what to do with everything that is left to her is not the most pressing issue.” Norrey said. “That can be dealt with months or years down the road. And we’ll have a few associates looking over the asset list and prioritizing things. For example, what has to be taxed or what has payments, et cetera, are discussed sooner rather than later. Trinkets and such are usually the last to be given away or sold.”

“Makes sense.” Sandor replied.

“May I ask what all of the boxes are for?” Botley asked finally.

“I’ll get to that part.” Sandor said. “First I have a couple of my own questions.”

“By all means.”

“I got the impression, from speaking with Robb Stark yesterday, that you are representing me, as well as Sansa during this investigation. Am I mistaken?”

“No, that is correct.” Portal said. “After briefly hearing from Dr. Stark, who insisted that we be retained for your benefit as well, we agreed to that representing you as well makes the most sense. And after acquiring a copy of and reading your statement to the police, we feel that while you don’t need a lawyer all that much, we will still represent you because of the close ties you have to Dr. Stark and your unique position in regards to the case.”

“Unique position?”

“Being the one who found her, you also have the most access to Dr. Stark.” Tradd clarified. “You will be the police’s number one source for personal information on her.”

“That is why it is imperative that you call us if the police try to talk to you.” Clarick impressed.

“Well I did just briefly see the detective when I went to the Mansion to get my car.”

Collectively the group of lawyers groaned.

“He didn’t ask me anything and I didn’t tell him anything. It was all about getting my car – which is not evidence and has been already cleared as such – so that I can bring you what I’ve brought you.”

“Next time, call us.”

“At two in the morning?” Sandor wondered, raising his eyebrow.

“Even at two in the morning.”

“We may personally arrive to be your representation, but one of our best associates would stand in our place.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time.” Sandor replied sarcastically. “But what information? Why would the cops need personal information on Sansa?”

They exchanged a glance. Botley spoke up first. “First, we must make it clear that Dr. Stark has given us permission to share all details about her case with you.”

“And you can do the same with mine with her.” Sandor nodded.

“We’ll have a wavier drawn up – just to have in writing.” Tradd said, scribbling on her notepad.

“Sure, sure.” Sandor replied, not really caring. His focus was on Botley who was chewing on his words, choosing them carefully.

“Some of what documents were signed yesterday at the hospital included Dr. Stark giving us permission to speak and act on her behalf. In addition, because of her condition and state in the hospital, all correspondence regarding the investigation comes from whomever and through us before it reaches Dr. Stark. We’ll ask you later to sign the same form. It preemptively cleans up any legal messes. Like the detective taking your statement without us being there. Had this form been signed, that would not have been legal for them to do.”

“Should I just sign everything Sansa signed yesterday?”

“In due time, yes.” Clarick replied.

Botley cleared his throat before continuing. “With that all of that said and cleared up, we were visited by the District Attorney this morning.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They are talking about arresting and charging Dr. Sansa Stark with the murder of Lord Ramsey Bolton.”

Sandor sat back. He laughed and said, “That’s funny. I thought you just said they might be pressing charges against Sansa for defending herself against her abusive husband.”

“They are.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous!” he shouted.

“Yes, it is.” They agreed in even tones.

Sandor ground his teeth and clenched his hands into fists. “I’m sorry for shouting. My sleep has been erratic. I can usually control myself much better than this.”

Blackmont stood and poured a glass of water. She sat it down in front of Sandor and resumed her seat. “We understand. You are under a tremendous amount of stress. Have you been seen by a doctor for your own trauma?”

“Trauma?” Sandor asked. “You mean my scars I got when I was a kid? Yeah, of course I’ve been to fucking therapy for that. Had more too, when I got out of the Army and again when between when I met Sansa and when I started working for her.”

“No,” she smiled and shook her head, “I mean the trauma you experienced when you walked into the house and found it torn apart. The trauma you experienced when you followed a blood trail up the stairs to your best friend, and boss’s, bedroom, and found her half-dressed, covered in blood, assaulted, raped, and in shock.”

“I wouldn’t call that trauma…”

“We would.” Blackmont said softly. “That is a very traumatic thing to experience. I encourage you to ask Dr. Sansa’s doctor tomorrow if there is someone you can speak to.” She held up her hand to keep Sandor from protesting and interrupting her. “We understand that there is nothing we can say to convince you to take some time off. We know that you will be with Sansa, at her side, for every minute of this and beyond. As a compromise, we ask that you try to get some help.”

“I’ll consider it.” Sandor replied.

“Thank you.”

“But, they’re _arresting_ her?”

“They wanted to. They wanted to cart her off to process her like any other defendant.”

“She can’t…. she shouldn’t leave the hospital. She’s not okay.”

“We know that. The doctors know that. We were able to work out a compromise. Later today, they will come and take her fingerprints and what not, to put her in the system. However, she will remain confined to her hospital room until if and when bail is posted and paid in full.”

Sandor leaned forwards and placed his face in his hands. “This is a nightmare.”

“This is only the beginning.”

“Does she know? Do Robb or Arya?”

“You are the first. We were just going over the plan when Jaelyn informed us of your arrival.”

“I suppose I couldn’t have shown up at a better time.” Sandor chuckled to himself. “I’m glad I spent the better part of the early morning hours today pulling everything together.”

“What do you mean?”

Sandor jutted a thumb behind him at the boxes. “Maybe I knew, on some subconscious level, that something like this would happen.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. The way the detective was trying to prevent me from going to the hospital with Sansa, that night. The way he was asking his questions yesterday morning. The way he carefully guarded himself this morning when I got my truck. It almost feels like this was his plan all along. A Lord dies plus successful wife survives must equal she killed him.”

“I don’t think they’re taking such a simplistic approach,” Tradd smiled, “but you are not far off the mark.”

“And the boxes?” Norrey wondered.

“Did you guys know that Ramsey was abusing Sansa?”

No one said anything but they shook their heads.

“No one did.” Sandor said as if that was comforting. “Well, no one but me.”

He signed and drank half of the glass of water.

“Everything in those boxes is evidence of his abuse. Everything since Sansa hired me as her personal bodyguard.”

“Evidence?”

“Yeah, evidence.”

Clarick walked around to the top box and pulled off the top, he quickly flipped through the pages and plastic baggies. “What is all of this?”

“Photos, bandages, towels; whatever I could sneak away.”

“Towels?”

“Yeah, if there was a lot of blood, or even just a little bit of blood, I figured it would be good to show that. I couldn’t very well pull out my phone and snap a photo of the mess but I could clean up the mess. And easily sneak the towel away. The same with the bandages.”

“You said photos. What kind?”

“All sorts.” Sandor shrugged.

“How did you get away with taking this photo?” Clarick held up a photo of a bright red welt on Sansa’s upper thigh.

“She didn’t want to see it at that moment – but she wanted to know. She asked me to take the photo so she could view it later. I was supposed to delete it.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.”

“The ones of her back were easy – she couldn’t see. Same with other places that are hard to examine in a mirror. But mostly she’d lay there or sit there with her eyes closed. It was simple to silently pull out my phone while I prepped bandages or ice or something and took the photos. She never knew.”

“And this?” Norrey asked pointing to the binder.

“That is an itemized list of everything I have with dates and times and conditions.”

“Conditions?”

“What was the situation? Was Ramsey drinking? Had he had a hit of something? Did Sansa do something to piss him off – even though _nothing_ was her fault, he blamed her for everything. And what was the resulting injury.”

“You are meticulous.”

Sandor shrugged. “I was in the Army. We value details. I hoped that she would leave on her own, but I feared she may need proof – especially if she wanted to keep her company intact. So, I kept all the evidence I could.” He looked down and picked at his fingernails. “I couldn’t do anything at the time, so I did this. I pretended that it was helping her.”

“Sandor.” Blackmont said.

He looked up, weary and exhausted.

“Sandor you very well may have just saved Sansa’s life,” she said and gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “This is very much helping her. Once we present this evidence in trial – mind you, you will have to take the stand to explain and go through each and every piece of evidence, but we’ll walk you through that when the time comes – either the judge will throw out the case, the prosecution will drop it, or, if a jury is called, they’ll never convict with this much history.”

“Can this really help?”

“More than you know.”

“Can you leave this with us now?” Tradd wondered.

“I certainly don’t fucking want to tote this around. I don’t want it in my house anymore either. It’s like a poison cesspool sitting in my closet.”

Tradd nodded. “We’ll verify your list and take photos before we start digging into contents. Of course, we’ll keep you updated with our progress.”

“Sandor go back to the hospital. Go see Sansa.” Norrey prompted him. “Leave this weight and responsibility with us. We’ll put all of this to good use and it will help.”

“Okay. Good,” Sandor was so tired. So exhausted.

“Jaelyn.” Tradd said, pushing the intercom button on the table.

A moment later the secretary reappeared and popped her head inside. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Please call a car for Sandor.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She disappeared.

“No, I have my SUV here.” Sandor piped in.

“Sandor, you’re too tired to drive. Let us take care of you since you have just made our jobs much easier.” Clarick insisted.

“What about my truck?”

“Leave the keys with Jaelyn and we’ll get your SUV back to your house. And when we see you again, we’ll return your keys.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sandor heaved himself up and shook all of their hands. He handed Jaelyn his keys and followed one of the associates down to the lobby. The chauffer held the door open for him and closed it once he was seated. Though he was worried about what was going to happen, Sandor couldn’t wait to see Sansa and tell her that things were going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh readers! You're the best. Thanks for the comments and kudos, I really do appreciate them!


	8. The One Where Sandor Actually Doesn't Leave Sansa's Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Previously On Innocence:** Sandor goes on a series of midnight and morning errands. The office. His house. The hospital. The Mansion. His house. The lawyers'. The hospital.
> 
> **This Time On Innocence:** Sandor returns to Sansa to find her in poor shape. He takes care of her and _actually_ doesn't leave her this time...like he's been promising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to have to slow down on publishing chapters because ya'll are catching up to my writing and Spring semester of university has started so I'm swamped with reading and writing. Plus I got a promotion at work that semi-terrifies me, and I'm also trying to work as much as possible. Oh, and I started brain meds so I'm all whacked out right now. Life's crazy.
> 
> Shoutout to those who read, leave kudos, and/or comment. If only one person read this I'd be happy but there seems to be a few of you so thank you so much!

When Sandor returned to the hospital, Sansa was sitting propped up in bed. Her head lagged to the side, but she was awake. Arya sat at the foot of her bed; one leg folded under her, one leg hanging over the side. Robb sat on the chair next to the bed. A pudding cup half eaten and little sandwiches untouched sat on a small plate. The plate sat on the corner of the bed tray that was also being used to play Stark Rummy.

Instead of walking in right away, Sandor paused and watched them for a minute.

Robb and Arya chatted softly. Sansa remained silent though she moved with low energy to pick up and discard cards. Periodically, her brother and sister would glance at her then share a look. Sansa never noticed. She didn’t join in on the conversation no matter how many times they asked her questions or tried to include her. Sandor thought she looked deflated. And it tore another hole through his already broken heart.

Sighing, he knocked on the door and walked in. Robb and Arya nodded to him as he approached the bed. Sansa never looked up from her cards.

“You look tired, Little Bird,” Sandor said.

Sansa’s eyes shot up to look at him, but her head was slower to follow. Her voice was soft, disbelieving, “Sandor.”

“Aye, it’s me. Are you feeling alright?” he walked around Robb’s chair and brushed a clump of hair over her shoulder.

Sansa half shrugged but didn’t respond.

“Did you sleep alright?”

Sansa looked down at her cards.

Sandor cocked his head to the side curiously.

“She hardly slept,” Arya piped in.

Sandor glanced at Little Wolf then back to her sister. “I thought we agreed Sansa, that you would sleep while I was gone.”

“Rummy!” Arya exclaimed. “Fucking finally. You know Sandor, she may be half zombie right now, but she _still_ kicks my ass at rummy. She has my whole life! This is the first hand I’ve won today – and we’ve been playing all morning!”

Robb stood to shuffle the cards. Sandor sat on the edge of the bed facing Sansa. He gently took the cards from Sansa’s slender fingers and passed them to Robb. Then he enveloped those cold hands with his own and noticed that a few of her perfectly manicured nails had been chipped and broken.

_We’ll have to fix that, soon,_ Sandor thought. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

“Why didn’t you sleep?” he whispered.

“I tried,” she replied, her voice soft and wavering.

“What kept you up?”

Sansa glanced at him and quickly away again. She shook her head.

“Are we keeping secrets now?”

She shook her head.

“Then what kept you awake? You must be utterly exhausted.”

Sansa swallowed hard. She opened her mouth and closed it again. Finally, she whispered, “You weren’t here.”

Sandor let his shoulders slump. He heard Robb mumble about going to get a coffee. Arya curled up in the armchair, reading her phone. A moment later his phone buzzed. And buzzed again. And again.

Sansa wouldn’t look at him and he knew that getting upset with her would only make things worse, so he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and unlocked it. He’d gotten texts from the two Stark siblings in the hospital with them.

**She had night terrors all night. Hasn’t slept since just before dawn. – R**

**She keeps falling farther into a depression. She’s worse now than she was hours ago. – R**

**It’s like she’s collapsing in on herself. – LilWolf**

**Like she’s slipping away. - LilWolf**

Sandor hadn’t realized it was a group text.

**Psych came by but she wouldn’t talk with them, even when they asked Arya and I to leave the room. – R**

**They’re monitoring her closely but aren’t overly worried – they said the trauma and physical exhaustion is probably catching up to her. – R**

**They suggested we carry on fairly normally. – R**

**But how do we do that!? – LilWolf**

**Doc recommended something she enjoyed a lot when we were younger. Something we used to do for fun long before she met …. Him. – R**

**Stark Rummy has at least kept her moving, kinda. But she was mute from shortly after you left until you got back here. - LilWolf**

**I’m glad you’re back. – R**

**P.s. Don’t read us the riot act for not letting you know earlier. We all know you would have dropped everything and came running. You had shit to do. – LilWolf**

**If you convince us you won’t drop everything and come running, the next time you’re away from the hospital, we’ll keep you informed more. – R**

**Yes, we’re ganging up on you. – LilWolf**

**She needs you the most so we have to keep you healthy since there really isn’t anything that we can do about taking care of /her/, we’ll settle for taking care of you. – R**

**Get used to it Puppy Dog. – LilWolf**

Sandor quickly read the texts and sat his phone on the bed tray.

“Important?” Sansa mumbled.

“Somewhat,” he replied. “Just keeping informed on everything.”

Sansa nodded; her movements languished. “You’d tell me if it was something I needed to know. Even now?”

“Yes,” Sandor assured her. “If you needed to know, I would tell you.”

“Good.”

“Will you get some sleep now that I am here?” he wondered.

Sansa took a deep breath but didn’t respond.

Sandor tried another path. “Why couldn’t you sleep when I wasn’t here?”

Sansa glanced passed him to her sister. Sandor looked over his shoulder. Arya was curled up like a cat under a blanket; her eyes closed and her breathing even. Sandor suspect that she wasn’t actually asleep, but he couldn’t tell for sure. Sansa was convinced though.

“I didn’t feel safe,” she whispered, speaking to his stomach.

Sandor squeezed her hands. “Your sister is more than capable of protecting you. In fact, in this confined space, she might be better at the task than I am – she’s so short and nimble. And though Robb may not be trained like your sister and I are, he’s fit, and he’d fight tooth and nail to make sure you’re safe.”

“I _know_ all that,” she huffed defiantly.

“Then what was the issue?”

Sansa licked her lips and bit her bottom one.

“Out with it.”

Sansa ground her teeth then muttered, “They’re not _you_.”

Sandor paused, almost grinning.

“If I didn’t know better, Sansa Stark, I’d guess you’re becoming attached to my good looks,” Sandor teased.

Sansa’s eyes flickered to his face and away just as fast, a dusting of pink appearing on her cheeks.

Sandor’s stomach flipped. He willed his heart to settle its flutter and said, “Do you feel better now that I am here?”

Sansa nodded, still unable to meet his eyes.

“Then I don’t see any reason why you can’t sleep now. Like I said, you look tired. I would say you look like shit, but I figured you might need tender words right now, instead of blunt ones.”

A smile danced on her lips and she looked up at him. “The latter sounds more like you.”

“How’s this: sleep will make you look not like shit. So then you should sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep.”

“Why?” he asked. “I’m not disappearing anymore today. And so far, nothing for tomorrow has popped up either.”

Sansa picked at his hands, measuring their size against her own. He let her and waited patiently. Being so tired, her defenses were down and Sandor could read her like a billboard. She was rolling words over on her tongue, looking for what she wanted to say. Hardly ever had Sandor held her hands so much. It was mildly surprising to become aware of just _how_ much bigger his hands were than hers. And hers were so soft, despite the bandages and the couple of stitches on her palm.

“You’ll think me silly.”

He sighed, “how long have I known you, Sansa? I only thought you silly when you were a teenager and did silly things.”

“Then you’ll think me weak.”

“Physically compared to me, sure, you are weak.” Sandor shrugged, “there are not many people who can match me. But that doesn’t make _you_ are weak. You’re just not as strong as I am.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” she huffed.

“Then if you’re mean, I’ll think you’re weak because of whatever is going through your pretty head right now, I thought you knew me better than that. I do not think you are weak. Nor will I when you let me in on what’s racing through your mind.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Sansa closed her eyes and tightened her grip on him. “I keep having nightmares. No, they’re worse than that.”

“Of the attack?” he wondered, also wondering how far he could or rather, how far he should push this conversation.

If his, and his buddies’, PTSD therapy had taught him anything, it was that talking helped. It hurt like a mother fucker in the moment, but it helped in the long run. Maybe he should be getting the doctor to talk to her. But Robb had said she wouldn’t talk to the doctor. Talking to someone was better than no one, right?

Sansa nodded, “of the attack, and the other times, and made up scenarios as well. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“That’s a very real feeling,” Sandor admitted. “I’ve been felt like that too.”

“When?”

“When I was in treatment upon discharge from the Army.”

“Oh.” Sansa fell silent. Her face looked like a cross between contemplative and exhausted.

Sandor leaned in a little, “You know that he can’t touch you anymore, right?”

Sansa nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Sandor wiped them deftly with his thumb. “What are these for?”

“Are you going to quit now?”

“Quit?”

“Yeah,” Sansa sniffled, “you became my bodyguard only because of Ra…because of him.”

“Aye, that’s true.”

“And now he’s…gone. Are you going to quit?”

It felt like she was asking if he was going to leave her. Maybe that was what she was asking him. Sandor shook his head vigorously. “No, Little Bird. I keep telling you, I’m going to be at your side until you don’t want me anymore. Need doesn’t really matter to me. Besides, you are a powerful enough businesswoman that having a bodyguard with you at all times isn’t such a bad thing.”

“So then…you’ll stay with me?” she looked up at him in earnest now.

Sandor grinned, “Yes.”

“And you’re not quitting?”

“Nope.”

“Will you sit with me?”

The change in conversation caused Sandor to pause.

“Is that not what I’m doing?” he motioned to his position on the edge of the bed.

Sansa pulled her hands out of his grasp and slowly, painfully, pushed herself away from him, across the bed.

Sandor watched silently. He hated the grimace on her face and the tightness in her jaw

She opened her eyes and pat the mattress next to her. “Will you please sit _next_ to me, Sandor.”

“Is that allowed?”

“What are they going to do? Yell at me?”

There it was – that spunk that Sandor loved about Sansa. Her fire wasn’t out yet. Just severely doused. It was but a spark right now.

_Still better than nothing_ , he thought.

“And your siblings?” he wondered.

“Why would they care?”

Sandor could come up with lots of reasons. The first being professional boundaries. Though anyone could argue that after the events of the past few days, those boundaries of propriety hardly existed anymore and could wait a while to be reinstated.

“They might find it a bit weird – you are my boss after all.”

“They’re not in my position right now. I want my friend to sit with me. I just so happen to pay that friend. They are not allowed to judge or make comments. Or they can leave.”

The second being safety. Sandor knew he wasn’t a small man. His shoulders were nearly three of Sansa’s wide, if he had to guess. He always wondered if she could wear one of his pants’ legs as a dress. He was all muscle and very little fat. She too was muscle but with a little bit of fat, and at a third of his size. Therefore, lying next to her in the not particularly large hospital bed, in her weakened and damaged state, ran the risk of accidentally hurting her further.

“I don’t think I’d fit.”

Sansa chuckled and the sound rang in Sandor’s ears. “Sandor. You have shoulders I have hips. Have you never had to sit in the backseat of a car with two other people? We’ll fit.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her smile dropped and Sandor cursed himself for opening his mouth. Sansa picked at the edge of the blanket and whispered, “You can’t hurt me more than I already do now.”

Realization donned on him; why she was so passive at the moment.

“How bad is it Sansa?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

He reached for her hand and held it tight.

Sandor waited until she couldn’t help but meet his eyes. “How much pain are you in?”

“A lot,” she admitted.

“Have you been given any drugs to help?”

Sansa shook her head. “If I had told them I was in pain, they would have given me Milk of the Poppy and I then I would have fallen asleep.”

“Something to numb the pain and to help you get some rest? Sansa, you need both of those things.”

“No, I don’t.”

Sandor rolled his eyes. “Yes, you do.”

“Okay, maybe,” she relented, “but not without you here to keep away the demons.”

Sandor sighed, feeling himself give in, “I swear if I make you hurt more, or if you don’t have enough room, and you do not tell me? I’ll be fucking pissed.”

Sansa’s eyes brightened. She knew that he was telling the truth. But she also knew he would never go passed just being pissed and brooding. And she knew that he would never do anything in retaliation to her not telling him.

“I promise.”

“And then you’ll let me call the nurse for some medicine.”

She glared and clenched her jaw.

Sandor smiled, “I promise that if you take something to help with the pain, I will not leave the room while you’re incapacitated. The only exception being to use the toilet.”

“No, you will not leave my side unless you use the toilet.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“No,” Sansa shook her head as dynamically as she could, “you said room. I am saying my side…and my side sounds less scandalous than saying my bed.”

Sandor barked out a laugh that shook his shoulders.

The third reason Sansa’s siblings would have issues with him sitting in bed with her was emotions – specifically _his_ emotions. Sandor saw the way Arya and Robb looked at him when he comforted her, wondering if there was something more. They heard him call her ‘love’, which he’d never done before the assault; it was always ‘Sansa’ or ‘Little Bird’, or ‘Dr. Stark’ when they were in professional settings.

Robb, more so than Arya, due to location and proximity, had watched his and Sansa’s professional relationship move into the friendship realm. Sandor was there with Sansa every fortnight at the family dinner that Robb and his wife hosted. Usually it was just them, their son, Sansa and himself. Occasionally one of the other Stark siblings might make an appearance. Sometimes family friends were invited too. In the beginning he was treated like a bodyguard: politely but mostly ignored like furniture even though he ate at the same table as them. Sandor sat in the corner while they played card games late into the evening, reading a book, and being ignored. Lately, he’d been treated more like a friend that Sansa always brought along, joining in on the games and holding conversations; Sansa’s nephew loved to climb over him like a jungle gym. Jeyne even had him helping with the dishes.

Aye, Robb had never said anything about the dynamic shift, but Sandor sensed he was itching to ask. And Sandor dreaded that conversation because he knew he wouldn’t be able to lie. Then his secret would be out. Then he’d lose his job. And he’d never have a reason to see Sansa again.

Who cared if Sandor, deep down inside him locked away behind a vault door as thick as the Wall itself, wanted something more…personal with Sansa? Lots of guys did. She was beautiful and intelligent and savvy and confident; everything a man should desire.

A lot of people would care, Sandor knew.

He wasn’t like other men. The difference was, Sandor _lived_ with Sansa in the same house; Sandor _worked_ for Sansa at her company; Sandor _shadowed_ Sansa everywhere she went, often including into the lavatory in public spaces – at which point he’d lean against the wall next to the sink, ignoring the frightened glances from other women, holding her briefcase or purse. Sandor was there with Sansa every second of every day.

So, maybe it _was_ wrong for him to want something more with her. Despite it being the first time that he had wanted something more since he’d gone through therapy. The difference between him and every other guy, compounded by the close proximity he shared with Sansa, was that he had never acted on his desire. Other blokes, even after she had married Ramsey, tried to act on their desires. If Sansa couldn’t fend them off, she had Sandor there to help. _Sandor_ had never considered there to be a possibility between them. That was why it remained a daydream locked away.

But Robb had his suspicions, Sandor could tell. Arya, however, was harder to read. Sansa, and therefore Sandor, spent considerably less time with the other Stark sister. There was less time for her to observe them together. Nevertheless, Sandor wouldn’t be surprised if she still wondered to what extent their relationship went. Perhaps Robb had shared his thoughts with her.

No one had more sway over Sansa’s opinions than her siblings. If Robb were to tell her that he suspected Sandor had certain feelings for her, Sandor knew that he could lose his job. The chances of that happening increased if Arya corroborated it with her own thoughts.

That scared Sandor a bit because he didn’t want to lose her, and he didn’t want to not be able to be around her. But it scared him more because he didn’t trust another man to behave himself around Sansa; to protect her like Sandor did because his protection included a whole lot more than physical safety. He was also an advisor and a sounding board; he was a listener and, quite literally on more than a few occasions, a shoulder to cry on. He was her _friend._ Perhaps a woman could do the job, but Brienne from his old army unit was the only woman he could think of – and she was still recovering from a nasty IED wound she’d taken to the neck. And for now, he still had the job. Why was he worrying so much about it?

Yes, there were many reasons why Sansa’s siblings might care about him lying in bed with her. But she had asked him. On a normal day, it would be easier for him to say no to anything she asked of him. In her current condition? He might argue and protest, but he’d forever give in, just to make her happy and forget, if for a little while, why she was in the hospital.

Sandor ran his hand up and down her arm. “Aye, Little Bird, it does sound less scandalous to say, ‘your side’ instead of ‘your bed’. You have a deal.”

Sandor let go of her hand and bent over to untie his boots. He kicked them towards the wall and stood up to stretch. Sandor turned around and eased his weight onto the hospital bed, trying to keep his hips as close to the left side of the bed as he could to allow for her to have as much room as possible. He crossed his ankles and his arms over his chest, smirking.

“Feeling better?”

“Almost,” Sansa agreed.

She started to wiggle closer to his arm but stopped and gasped.

Sandor threw his arm high in the air so that they were no longer touching. “What is it? What did I do? What hurts?”

“Just my…ribs. I…” she paused to take another gasp, “I moved wrong.”

Sansa sniffled. Her shoulders shook and she covered her face with her hands. “I can’t even use my own muscles!” she wailed.

Sandor swept her hair back gently. “That’s what Milk of the Poppy is for – to let you rest and heal so you can use your muscles without pain.”

“I just wanted to rest against you.”

“You can ask for help, you know,” Sandor chided playfully. He lowered his arm. “Lift your head.”

Sansa did and Sandor slid his arm behind her neck.

“Can I put my hand on your hip?”

She nodded.

Sandor put one hand on her hip and slid her effortlessly against his side. He adjusted himself so he was more laying than sitting and folded a pillow behind his head. Sansa sighed, leaning her head to the side against his chest, content.

“Can I call Selna now?”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because you’re in pain.”

“Just because I moved wrong.”

“But we had a deal,” Sandor reminded her. “Can I call her?”

“Sure,” Sansa relented.

Sandor hit the call button on the side of the bed with his thumb. A minute later Selna walked in. Her step faltered for only a second upon seeing Sandor in the bed too, but her face never betrayed her thoughts. She checked the machines and IV hooked up to Sansa and then gave her a gentle pat on the knee.

“Are you comfortable?” she asked.

Sansa nodded.

“And you’re not hurting?”

Sansa shook her head.

“Sansa…” Sandor warned.

“No, she’s asking if _you’re_ hurting me. You’re _not_ ,” she insisted.

“But are you in pain, Sansa?” Selna asked.

Hesitantly, Sansa nodded.

“How much, where?”

“All over. A lot,” Sansa admitted.

“We can help with that. But I can’t give you Milk of the Poppy until you eat something.”

“I don’t want Milk of the Poppy anyway,” she mumbled.

“We have other pain killers,” Selna replied. “But you still have to eat to take them. Eat your pudding and sandwiches, and I’ll go get you something that won’t make you terribly drowsy.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Selna scoffed, “I highly doubt that Ms. Sansa. You have not eaten since last night. I would know, because I’m the one who has been feeding you for the past fifteen hours.”

Sandor cocked his head to look down at Sansa. She refused to look up at him.

“Now, if you want anything to take the edge off, you have to eat. And no, I am in no way encouraging Sandor here use his magic powers over you to encourage you to eat something. To eat anything.” Selna grinned and backed out of the room waving as she walked, “I’ll be back in a little bit Sansa!”

The room was silent. Sandor swallowed and Sansa shook her head. “Don’t start.”

“Am I allowed to ask why you haven’t eaten?”

“I don’t have an appetite.”

“But you’ve got to be starving by now.”

“Sure, my body is hungry.”

“But…”

“I don’t want to eat.”

Sandor reached out and pulled the tray towards them. He noticed that he’d missed dozens of texts from the group chat with Arya and Robb after he put his phone on silent. Sandor smiled; he _knew_ Arya wasn’t asleep. If he had to guess, she was filling Robb in and keeping Robb out of the room since Sansa was now talking and engaging more. If only she’d eat. Sandor understood the apprehension of Robb coming back right away in case that changed the level of comfort Sansa felt in the room.

“Desert first?” he suggested.

“I’m not eating.”

“Then I’ll get up and sit in the chair next to the bed.”

“You can’t change the rules of our agreement after the fact.”

“I’d like to see you try and stop me,” Sandor replied.

The screen on his phone lit up as Arya sent two quick messages to Robb.

“Please don’t get up…” her voice was small again, uncertain.

“I won’t get up even if you don’t eat,” Sandor promised, “but you _should_ eat, love.”

A full two minutes passed in silence.

“Can I have a sandwich triangle then?”

Sandor opened the container and passed her one of the small halves. Sansa nibbled on it, like a bird might peck at a feeder. Sansa unconsciously groaned in delight at the food. Sandor smiled and picked up his phone. He was right. Arya was paraphrasing everything for Robb. Robb was sitting outside in the hall on the floor, ecstatic that Sansa was doing _something_.

**Real smooth, this secret texting thing. – Sandor**

**Selna is right: You’ve got magic powers over her. I’m impressed. – LilWolf**

**There are some complicated psych things behind her stubbornness to not do anything unless I’m here. Saw it in the army. It has to do with me being the one to find her. – Sandor**

“Who’s that?” Sansa asked as she finished her triangle.

**Right, /that’s/ what this is. Some reaction to PTSD. Totally. 100% *eyeroll emoji* - R**

“Your brother.” Sandor replied. “He’s found a comfy place to sit with his coffee for a bit and is wondering if you want him back here.”

**Do you wanna come back in, bro? – LilWolf**

**If she’s doing okay. – R**

“Did he stay away because of me?” Sansa fretted.

“Never,” Sandor insisted. “He got a coffee and sat. Lost track of time.”

“I’d like him back. Since there is a chair in here for him now that you’re sitting with me.”

**You’re welcome back any time. – LilWolf**

**Don’t comment on the eating. – Sandor**

“Can I have another?” Sansa asked.

“Chair? Brother?” Sandor didn’t catch what she meant.

“No, sandwich,” Sansa smiled.

Sandor bit his tongue to hold back a snarky retort as he passed her the second half of her sandwich. He poured her a glass of water and held it in his hand. She periodically took it from him to sip before passing it back and pecking at the sandwich.

Selna came back in with a little tumbler that rattled with pills. “You can take these when you finish at least the pudding, but preferably the other sandwich too.”

Sansa nodded; her mouth full.

“Oh, and your brother asked me to tell you he’s on the phone – says that it’s Jey? – and will be back in, in a few minutes.”

Sansa only nodded so Sandor said, “Thank you, Selna.”

“I’ll be back in a bit to check on you.”

Selna passed Robb as he came back in the room. He came over and kissed Sansa on the temple before sitting down.

“You’re getting a bit more color in your cheeks,” he commented. “I’m glad that you’re starting to feel better.”

Sansa glanced at Sandor but didn’t say anything.

“I really hate to leave you, but Jeyne just called to remind me I signed up to volunteer at Bender’s hockey game as the snack dad. She prepped the snacks so all I need to do I just go pick it up and show up at the game.”

“You should shower too,” she said.

Robb grinned and sniffed his armpits. “I’m not that rank.”

“But you look like you spent the night in the hospital with your pathetic sister.”

Robb’s smile disappeared.

“If you’re going to be self-deprecating like that, Sansa, then please go back to not talking,” he snapped.

Sansa winced.

Sandor raised an eyebrow while Arya raised her head off the arm rest of the chair. Neither of them were okay with Robb speaking like this. Sansa tucked her head into her chest and sat the last bite of her sandwich to the side. She was visibly collapsing around herself. She pulled the sleeves of the hospital gown down over her hands.

Sandor flexed his arm to remind her that he was there. It didn’t seem to help.

Robb ignored the looks he got and continued, “I know that you know that you are not pathetic, even if you might feel that way right now.”

“Robb…” Sandor growled warningly.

The auburn-haired big brother ignored him, “So please, don’t say such nonsense about yourself. It upsets me, Sansan.”

“You shouldn’t be staying in the hospital all night with me,” she muttered.

“No, you’re wrong. I’ll stay the night in the hospital with you as long as I need to – just to be with you and help you. If I look rough, so be it.”

“But—”

“Since you and Jey like to insist I look my best always, I’ll go home and shower and change into something that is not sweats. That way I’m presentable for the game.”

Sansa didn’t respond right away. When she did, Sandor instantly heard the tremor in her voice.

“I was going to go to the game today…” Sansa mumbled, Robb’s harshness forgotten. “I was going to surprise Bender and take him out to dinner after the game because I haven’t been able to make any of his other games this season.”

Robb leaned over the bed and rested his forearms while clasping his hands around Sansa’s. “You listen to me, and you listen good: you are a _fantastic_ aunt, Sansa. Bender loves you no matter what. And he is okay with you not making it to every game. Yes, he wishes you could, but he understands. Gods, you should hear him brag to his buddies about who cool his aunt is.”

“But I should _be_ there.”

“You come to the important matches, and that’s what matters to him.”

“I told him I would be there today…”

“And I’ll tell him—”

“Don’t you dare tell him,” Sansa hissed.

Sandor could feel her body tense and knew that it was hurting her to do so. She trembled and her breath hitched in her throat.

“Let me finish,” Robb said as he rolled his eyes, “I’ll tell him that you’ve gotten sick and couldn’t make it.”

“But that’s lying.”

“Well you don’t want me to tell him the truth.”

“I don’t want you to lie to him either.”

Robb growled and face planted on his arms.

In a voice muffled by the blankets, he said, “I can’t win with you, Sansan, can I?”

“It’s not so much a lie, as a stretching of the truth,” Sandor suggested.

Sansa looked up at him, her blue eyes hooked on every word.

“You’re feeling under the weather, not at peak condition. That is not a lie. Sitting in a freezing arena with ice for a floor would not help you get better. That is the truth; shivering would only make your ribs hut more and we both know how cold you get at those games. _Even_ when you’re layered up with toe and hand warmers _and_ lend you my parka. Instead, we’re calling it sick to protect Bender, since he’s still young.”

“I suppose so…” she considered.

“That’s exactly what I just said!” Robb exclaimed exasperatedly, his head jumping up.

“But Sandor said it better,” Arya piped up, stretching to continue her charade of taking a nap. “Robb, are they broadcasting this game?”

“They broadcast the games!? I could have been watching all of the games while I worked!” Sansa exclaimed. “Why has no one told me this before now!? Arya!”

“I thought you knew!” she exclaimed. “Usually I’m the last one to find out about things!

“Robby!”

“They broadcast some of them,” Robb clarified. “But this isn’t one of them. And I didn’t know that you didn’t know.”

Sansa moaned and let her head fall back.

“What if I go to the game and video chat with you so you can see the game as I see the game?” Arya suggested.

“Really?” Sansa looked up.

“Yeah! Puppy Dog can pull out his laptop and you two can watch it from your apparently comfortable positions,” Arya flourished her hand to indicate their current sitting arrangement. Her eyes flicked to Sandor’s.

_She knows_ , he thought.

Sansa considered this, “If Sandor wants to.”

“No, this isn’t about what I want, Little Bird,” Sandor rasped, rubbing his hand on her hip. “If you want to watch the game, then we’ll watch the game.”

“Do you want to though?” she insisted.

“Aye, I like a good game of hockey,” he conceded. “That nephew of yours is getting good.”

“Great!” Arya stood and pulled on her shoes. “Robb do we have enough time to swing by the store and pick up a change of clothes for me? I need to get a few things and then I’m gonna steal your guest shower.”

“Did you not bring anything with you?” Sansa gaped.

Sandor’s phone started ringing.

“Puppy Dog called and so I jumped on a plane,” she shrugged. “I didn’t really think about going home and packing clothes.”

“Hello?” Sandor said, putting his phone to his ear.

“Mr. Clegane, it’s Minira Tradd.”

“Is everything alright?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could.

All three Starks fell silent and looked at him.

“That’s a complicated answer. Things have changed since we spoke this morning at the office and we need to come speak with Dr. Stark, and with yourself. The sooner the better.”

“You know where we are, and we’ll be here for a while.”

Sandor was trying to ignore the fright building in Sansa’s eyes.

“Can we say, in thirty minutes? Perhaps an hour – the traffic is always unpredictable around this time of day.”

“Of course. We’ll see you when you get here.” Sandor set his phone back on the table but didn’t say anything right away.

“Sandor?” Robb asked, the first to speak.

“That was Mrs. Tradd, the lawyer.”

Sansa gulped.

“She and the team want to come speak with us. They’ll be here in about an hour.”

“I can skip the game,” Robb replied instantly.

“Me too,” Arya agreed.

“No,” Sandor snapped. “Absolutely not. You still have your family to take care of Robb. Don’t start neglecting them. Arya go and record the game so Sansa can watch it tonight.”

“Jey will understand,” Robb started to say but Sandor shook his head.

“Let’s try and keep things as normal as we can, shall we?” Sandor raised his eyebrows and motioned to Sansa as subtly as he could.

What he really wanted to do what shout, _let’s make life as normal as we possibly can – for everyone, and especially for Sansa – because soon enough it won’t be!_

What he ended up saying was, “We’ll fill you in after the game on what they had to say.”

“Sansa, is this okay?” Arya asked.

Sansa nodded slowly, agreeing with Sandor. “I’m not…clearly I’m in not in any condition to handle anything. I don’t _want_ to do anything. I can’t see the big picture anymore. I hardly know what’s happening right now with me, let alone anything else. Therefore, as it’s always been, if Sandor decides something or if he says that something needs to happen, then it should be done. He speaks for me. He knows best. Especially right now.”

_Could she sense that he knew more than he was letting on?_ Sandor wondered. Probably, they had known each other for so long and spent so much time together.

Robb and Arya nodded slowly. They stood and hugged Sansa awkwardly with her position next to Sandor. Arya made sure to jab Sandor in the ribs.

But to her sister she said, “I’ll call just before the game starts. If you don’t answer, I’ll know the lawyers are here. If you do, feel free to hang up when you need to. And finish eating your lunch. You need the pain killers.”

“You sound like mum,” Sansa mumbled, picking up her sandwich.

Arya gasped and shuddered, “Don’t you dare say that again!”

Both sisters laughed. Arya waved and closed the door behind her and Robb.

Sansa munched on her sandwich. When it was gone, she drained the water cup and looked up at Sandor. “What did you not say in front of my siblings?”

“I said everything. The lawyers want to come talk to us.”

“But you never said what _about._ ”

“I thought you just said you don’t know what’s going on.”

“I can tell when you’re worried about something. What is it?”

“I think it’s best if we wait for the lawyers to tell us.”

“But you know _something_.”

“Aye, I do.”

“What is it!”

“Do you trust me?”

“What sort of question is that!” she exclaimed.

“Fine, it was a stupid one,” he conceded. “But I need you to trust me, Sansa, especially now, when I tell you that I think the lawyers should be the one to tell us – to tell you – whatever it is they need to. I don’t want to say something wrong or make matters worse. I want to let them do their job.”

“But you _do_ know what it’s about?”

“Aye, I think I do.”

“Will you tell me anything?”

“It has to do with what I spoke to them this morning about. Nothing was confirmed then – that’s why I don’t want to tell you now in case I tell you wrong.”

“Pass me the pudding.”

“I really think that I shouldn’t—What did you say?” Sandor asked, interrupting himself.

“Pass me the pudding?”

“I was, well I was expecting you to argue more.”

“I want to, trust me I do,” she replied grumpily, “but I hurt, and I want the meds to kick in before the lawyers arrive.”

“You’re more aware than you think you are,” he observed.

Sansa ignored him. “If I ask you to give me the pills now, you’ll say you can’t because the nurse said I have to eat my pudding first. So then, I’m going to eat the damn pudding!”

Sandor raised his eyebrows.

“I’ll eat the damn pudding, even though it’s probably room temperature now and not cold anymore. But you can forget about me eating the other sandwich – I don’t want it right now.”

“We’ll save it for later then,” Sandor said hurriedly.

He passed her the pudding and Sansa quickly finished it, grumbling about how she was right, it was room temperature and it was nasty and Selna should have brought a fresh one, maybe she should ask for a fresh one since she deserved it with all the torture they were putting her through.

Sandor let her grumble as he refilled the water cup and passed her the tumbler with the pills. She swallowed them before letting her head flop to the side, against his chest. Silence fell on the room.

Sandor thought that she had fallen asleep until Sansa exhaled heavily.

“You alright there, Little Bird?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, rubbing her cheek against his shirt. “Things are going to bet bad, Sandor, aren’t they?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“I have a bad feeling.” Sansa said, mildly slurring together the words as the medicine took effect.

“Let’s hope you’re wrong,” Sandor kissed the crown of her head.

“Sandor?” she asked, after a bit.

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you agreed to be my bodyguard,” Sansa sighed, “all those years ago.”

“It wasn’t that many years ago.”

“Still, I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

“And I hope, that no matter what happens, you’ll still be my friend and hold me when I need it – even if you’re not longer my bodyguard.”

“I’ll be your friend for a long time yet, Little Bird. And I’ll hold you whenever you want.”

“You’ll still be by my side, even if I don’t pay you to be?”

Sandor squeezed his eyes shut. “There isn’t much in the world that will prevent me from being with you at this point, love.”

Sansa nodded again, “Good. And Sandor?”

“Yes?”

“Wake me up when the lawyers get here.”

“Of course.”

“Sandor?”

“Yes, love?”

“I like when you call me that.”

“Call you what?”

“’Love’”

“I hadn’t realized I had been.” _That was a lie._

“It’s new. You’ve never done it before this assault.”

“If I say I’ll stop because it’s weird because you’re my boss, you’ll only get mad at me, right?”

“You know me well.”

“Then, I’ll have to stop thinking about it and let it come when it wants to.”

“I didn’t know you’re a romantic and a poet.”

“I’m neither.”

“Ssshhhhure, you aren’t.”

“Your drugs are making you loopy.”

“Probably. Sssandor?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I call you Sandy?”

“Over my dead body.”

“I think it fits youuu.”

“Only one person is allowed to call me that.”

“Ohhhhh, and I can’t cause it’ssss weird when I do it ‘cause that’s what your sister calls you?”

“Yeah.”

“You have a cute nickname for me. But I don’t have one for you. Even Arya does.”

“I don’t need one. Arya’s is just ironic and started out with her trying to be mean. It didn’t work very well.”

“But nicknames mean that you mean something important to someone.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m important to you, even without having a nickname.”

“I’ll still think of something.”

“Do you want to know a secret?”

“I’ll keep, I’ll keep aaaaaall of your secrets, Sandor.”

“I know you will.”

“What’s the secret then?”

“I don’t need a nickname from you because of the way you say my name, it sounds like a nickname to me.”

“Do I say it weird? Have I beesaying it wrong forlmost fifteen yers! Ooooorr longer?”

“Ha! No. You just say it…nice. With affection and love.”

“Well thapart’s twue.”

“Hush now, you’re tired.”

“But Sssandor?”

“Mhmm?”

“Ido luffyouuu.”

“I love you too, Sansa. Sleep well, my Little Bird.”


	9. Chapter 9 - Sandor's Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor and Sansa meet with the lawyers...and it doesn't exactly go smoothly. Past events get brought up that neither Sansa nor Sandor would really like to address. Sandor realizes he has to tell Sansa why he couldn't save her from Ramsey all of these years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously On _Innocence_ : Sandor returns to Sansa after his night and early morning of running errands, only to find her in very poor shape. He takes care of her, as usual, but he actually doesn’t leave her this time…like he’s been promising from the start.

**TRIGGER WARNING: Domestic Violence, Abuse, Assault, Death**

Sansa had been asleep for nearly two hours when Selna stepped back into the room, pushing a wheelchair. Sandor sat his phone down, where he had been surfing any and all news sites to see if word of Sansa’s assault had leaked yet. So far there was nothing.

“Mr. Clegane,” Selna said softly, “the lawyers are here. I’ve put them up in a conference room. There are too many to be in this room at once and it’s more private there.”

“Thank you,” Sandor replied.

Sansa stirred at the rumbling his voice made in his chest.

Sandor rubbed her arm gently. “Sansa, it’s time to wake up. The lawyers are here.”

“I juss barely fell asseep,” Sansa grumbled.

“You’ll sleep lots more later. It’s time to get up. Selna has a wheelchair for you.”

“I want to walk.”

Sandor looked up at Selna, quizzically.

Selna nodded, “If your big man here escorts you, I’ll agree to that. But you have to hold his arm.”

“Like he’s a knight and I’m a lady!” Sansa beamed, opening her eyes. “I just dreamed about that.”

“I don’t think I would be a knight, Little Bird,” Sandor replied.

“You said that in my dream too! ‘I’m no ser’ you said.”

“Sounds like your dream knows me pretty well.”

“I have to pee,” Sansa said suddenly.

Selna stepped to the edge of the bed. “I’ll help you to the toilet.”

“But—”

“I have to put on my shoes, Sansa,” Sandor said, not allowing her to complain that Selna wasn’t him. “Go with Selna. I’ll be right here waiting for you when you get out.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

Sandor helped Sansa sit up and twist around so that her legs hung off the side of the bed. Selna expertly pulled her to her feet and steadied her when she swayed. Sandor clenched his fist to prevent himself from correcting the nurse or telling her to be careful. Of course, she knew just as well as he did that Sansa was fragile at the moment.

As soon as the door shut, though it didn’t latch, Sandor jumped off the bed and sat in the chair. He pulled on his boots and tied the laces. He walked around to the other side of the bed and sat on the edge, waiting, listening for any sign that Sansa needed help.

After what seemed like too long of a time, the door opened. Sandor sprang to his feet. Sansa walked out in front of Selna with more strength than when she went in. The hair around her face was wet and her long auburn locks were freshly braided.

“She helped me wash myself with a cloth,” Sansa clarified when Sandor flicked away a bead of water from her jaw. “I want to shower but I guess the doctor says I can’t yet. Do I smell?”

“No,” he said quickly.

“And before my sponge bath?”

“Nope.”

Sansa nodded, though he could tell from the way her left eye narrowed slightly Sansa wasn’t sure whether or not she believed him. She didn’t comment on it and instead said, “I’ll have to wash more frequently. I feel so much better now.”

“I’m sure Arya wouldn’t mind helping you with that,” he suggested.

“So proper you are,” she teased.

“I try to be,” he conceded. “I can’t help you there. You are my boss after all.”

“No!” Sansa snapped, stomping her foot.

That only made her gasp and yelp in pain. Sandor stepped forward and caught her just as her knee gave out. Selna pulled the wheelchair around.

“No! I want to walk!” Sansa said through barred teeth.

“You cannot get angry and use your body to express it,” Selna chided. “You are too injured. If you insist on continuing with your current ways, you _will_ use the chair. And I _won’t_ let Sandor lay in the bed with you.”

“But he didn’t do anything!”

Selna shook her head. “It’s not to punish him, sweetie. It’s to get you to take care of yourself. If you want him around, do as your told. Control your reactions.”

Sansa nodded. She rested her forehead on Sandor’s chest a moment, taking deep breaths, while he held her weight easily. Her arms clenched and unclenched around his biceps. Sandor wondered if the pain came in waves.

“Can you tell Sandor why you got angry with him, just a moment ago?” Selna prompted.

Sansa shook her head, rocking it back and forth over Sandor’s sternum.

“What did I say, Little Bird? Did I say or do something wrong?”

“No,” she whispered. Then, “yes.”

“What did I do?”

“You said that I’m your boss.”

Sandor chuckled. “Aye, I did. Because you are.”

Sansa whined but she didn’t stomp her foot.

Selna nodded, pleased.

“What’s wrong with me saying that?”

“I thought I was more than your boss,” she said, swallowing, trying to hide the hurt in her voice. “I thought we were more than that.”

“We are,” Sandor said. “We’re best friends.”

Sansa’s breath hitched in her voice as she stifled a sob. “Why do you insist on pointing out that you’re my employee?”

“Cause that is true too,” Sandor chuckled. “We are both things. And until you fire me, that won’t change a thing.”

“I’m not firing you.”

“Then I’ll continue calling your ‘my boss’ – _especially_ when it comes to things that are inappropriate for collogues to do. Such as sponge bathing you.”

“Would you sponge bathe me if we were only best friends?”

Sandor paused and grinned. Even Selna could hear the mocking tone in her voice. He laughed, “If you needed me to, and if you weren’t my boss, aye, I suppose I’d sponge bathe you.”

“That’s good to know,” Sansa swallowed again and nodded. She lifted her head off of Sandor’s chest and pulled away from him, just a bit, testing her own strength. “I feel so weird.”

“You haven’t walked more than the few steps to the toilet in more than three days,” Selna reminded her, “so take it easy on your walk. Lean on your friend. If you need a wheelchair, ask.”

“Oh! Sandor!” Sansa exclaimed suddenly. “Did you say Jeyne packed me clothes?”

“Aye, she sent me with sweats and a tank top and a sweater. Other clothes too I think.”

“Do we have time? Can I change? Or will the lawyers be upset that they’ve been waiting?”

Sandor laughed, “You’re paying them, love, so I don’t think they mind waiting.”

“I can help you change, if you want,” Selna offered.

“Did Jeyne pack small clothes?” Sansa asked.

“I think so,” Sandor replied. “Though I didn’t exactly riffle through the bag.”

“Can you check Selna?”

“The bag is under the window,” Sandor directed her.

Sansa was already trying to untie the hospital gown behind her neck. Sandor slowly let go of Sansa and stepped around behind her. He deftly pulled at the strings at the neck, and at her low back. The gown opened revealing porcelain skin heavily bruised in yellows, blues, purples, and blacks. Sandor swallowed hard to keep the sadness at bay.

“I’ll step into the hallway,” Sandor suggested.

“Please don’t go,” she said.

“Boss/Employee thing remember?” he said kindly.

“Then, consider this, I don’t feel stable. I need you to keep me standing.”

“Very clever,” Sandor muttered but he remained in his spot.

Sansa pulled off the gown from her arms and sat it on the bed.

“Are you sure, Sansa?” Selna asked, eying her patient’s face carefully. “Are you okay? Are you uncomfortable?”

“It’s just Sandor,” she said, leaning over. Sandor jumped and placed his hands on her waist.

Selna opened her mouth to tell him no, but Sansa spoke first.

“I’m not falling, Sandor!” she laughed.

“How was I supposed to know!” Sandor replied. “You just told me you don’t feel stable! Then one second your standing and the next falling forwards.”

“I’m trying to take off my socks.”

“Well,” he huffed, “I’m still going to hold on to you. I don’t need you falling on your head. Surely Selna doesn’t need that either.”

“No, I certainly do not,” she agreed, setting the clothes on the edge of the bed. “I have a reputation of my patients getting _better_ in my care, not worse.”

Sansa leaned over, and this time Sandor was ready. As she removed her socks, she said, “I am getting better. I don’t hurt like I did yesterday.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Sansa righted herself.

Sandor wondered if that was just the drugs talking.

Next, Sansa pushed down her small clothes around her ankles and stepped out of them.

Sandor kept his eyes glued to the back of her head, just like every other time she’d changed in front of him.

Selna knelt and helped Sansa pull up the clean pair of small clothes over her hips. Sansa lifted one foot and placed in on Selna’s thigh so that she could pull on Sansa’s sock. Then they switched feet. Selna shook out the black sweatpants and helped Sansa step into them.

“Those look comfy,” the nurse commented.

“They are. They were Robb’s old running pants from his brief stint in high school at playing soccer. I always have to roll up the bottoms a bit – he was taller than me – but they fit my hips well enough.”

Sansa watched as Selna rolled the hems. “No, that’s too much.”

“It’ll do for your walk,” she said, “I don’t want you tripping.”

“Oh, that’s a good point.”

Sansa held up her arms while Selna pulled the tank top down over her. Sandor let go just long enough to move his hands to outside her shirt.

“Was there not a sports bra in there, Selna?” Sansa asked.

“There was,” she affirmed, “but there will be no bra wearing from you for quite some time. Those ribs and cuts need time to heal. Compressing them will do you no good. Besides, it would only hurt. Trust me.”

“I can’t usually go without a bra…” Sansa commented.

It had not escaped Sandor’s attention that Sansa was well…endowed. He didn’t understand what constituted the _need_ for a bra, despite having a sister, despite having been Sansa’s bodyguard for five years. He didn’t think that Sansa was extraordinarily big or anything. He thought her perfectly proportioned. Not that he had spent a lot of time thinking about such things. It was just something that he had observed.

“I don’t suspect you’ll be running anytime soon, especially in this hospital,” Selna replied. “Let the girls out for a bit.”

“I feel so…free,” Sansa giggled, glancing down at herself. She rubbed her arms. “Though I am chilly.”

“Put this on then,” Selna said, holding out a thick cardigan. It was much too large for Sansa, but Sandor knew that it was one of her lounging sweaters. He held it up so Sansa could slip her arms in. Slowly she turned around, unaided, and pulled the sweater close around her.

“How do I look Sandor?”

He smiled, “Beautiful.”

“I love that you lie to me.”

“I love that you think I’m lying to you,” he smiled. “You are beautiful and besides that, you look cozy.”

“I feel cozy. And better. Clean. Put together. Almost okay,” she said and stifled a yawn, “I’m tired, but I feel almost like I can face whatever the lawyers have to tell us.”

“Whatever it is,” Sandor said, holding out his elbow for her to take, “we’ll face it together.”

Sansa beamed and leaned her head in his arm. “Lead on, valiant knight.”

Sandor laughed and led her out of the room. They exited the ward and slowly made their way across the hospital. It took them fifteen minutes to reach the conference room. When Selna opened the door for them, the lawyers all stood.

“Dr. Stark. Mr. Clegane.” The team greeted them. “You look—”

“Like I was attacked in my own home?” Sansa snapped coldly.

Sandor glanced down at Sansa, eyes wide in shock. She had been happy and playful only a few minutes before. He desperately wished sometimes that he could see into her mind to understand what was going on in there. To understand why her mood had soured so quickly. Knowing that he would never be able to do such a thing, Sandor pat her hand on his arm, trying to reassure her and calm whatever fears overturned her common courtesies.

“I was going to say,” Corren Botley said, backtracking, “that you look well considering the circumstances.”

“I guess that is the polite things to say in this case,” Sansa sighed.

Sandor realized that she had come into the room with all her armor on, courtesies be damned.

Sansa didn’t know what was going to be said in this meeting – Sandor had made sure of that – and as a result, she had prepared herself for the most extreme blows. Now, she saw her tone was inappropriate towards the people who were fighting on her side, on the front lines.

Sansa leaned even more on Sandor’s arm, as though dropping some armor left her weak. He led her to the chair Selna pulled out for her. Sansa grimaced as she sat but cleared her face quickly. Sandor sat next to her and Selna moved to sit against the wall.

Sansa took a visibly deep breath, “Sandor said that you want to discuss something you all discussed with him this morning.”

“Yes,” Tarla Clarick agreed. “How much has he told you?”

“That was it,” Sansa replied, still somewhat perturbed with him by that fact.

“What we discussed with Sandor this morning was only a possibility. Now, however, we have received official word.”

“Word of what?” Sansa begged, reaching for Sandor’s hand. He met her halfway. She squeezed his fingers with fright.

“The police will be arresting you for the murder of your husband and the district attorney will be accepting the case and will proceed with the charges,” Mikal Porter explained.

Sansa’s breath stopped in her chest. Her mouth fell open.

Sandor squeezed her hand, to remind her that he was still there.

She shook her head, tears appearing at the corners of her eyes.

“The police and the D.A. recognize that you were also injured in the course of the events in question—"

“They’re not in question!” Sansa cried out. “He, he, he attacked…”

“The event is not in question for us,” Mrs. Tradd agreed quickly, “but that is the sort of language that will be used if this case goes to trial. It is the language we must use officially.”

“They police recognize,” Porter continued, “that you were injured in the incident and must remain in the hospital. As such, you will be put on house arrest. We don’t know when, but we suspect they will come and dot the I’s and cross the T’s tonight – finger printing and such.”

“Oh Gods, oh Gods,” Sansa whimpered, starting to rock back and forth.

Sandor wanted her to stop – the motion couldn’t feel good with her ribs and bruises.

“Since you cannot leave the hospital in your current state,” Dallar Norrey explained, “there will be a police officer outside the ward – they are not allowed inside the wing, hospital policy – to ensure that you comply with your arrest. Bail will be set. Your personal accountant assures us that you will be able to pay any reasonable bail amount. And when you are released from the hospital, you will be able to go home.”

“Bail?” she whispered, overwhelmed.

“However, as the defendant in a capital murder case, you will not be able to leave the house – for fear that you might try and run,” Porter said.

“House!? I don’t _have_ a house anymore!” Sansa cried out. “He’s taken that from me too!”

“We’ll find you a place, Little Bird,” Sandor said quickly. “You’ll have a quiet, secluded, private place to wait this out.”

Norrey continued, “Then, we go to court. And we fight to keep your freedom. It will not be easy, Dr. Stark, that I can tell you right now.”

“I’m going to go to jail…” shock was washing over her.

Tradd leaned forward, “Sansa, I can also tell you that we have very strong and compelling evidence in your favor.”

“If this does to a trial, the public will see how unfair and unjust such a trial really is.”

Silence reigned when Porter finished.

Sandor could feel Sansa’s hand shaking in his own. He squeezed her hand again, and that seemed to break her from her trance.

“Oh gods.” Sansa finally gasped for breath. Large tears streamed down her mauled cheeks. Sansa clawed at her chest as though she couldn’t breathe. She gasped and gasped, reaching for the cusp of hyperventilation. “Oh gods, I’m going to jail. I just tried to get away, I was just trying to get away and I was just trying to get my own life back. Instead, I’m going to jail for murder.”

“It was _self-defense!_ ” Sandor insisted, not for the first or last time. He shook her arm, trying to get her to understand what he did. “Sansa, you didn’t do it on purpose. You’ve said so yourself. You were trying to get away from him because he _hurt_ you. But he came home and attacked you for it! Like he’s done before!”

“No one will believe me! There’s no proof of the history.”

“That’s not true.”

“I’ve never reported anything!”

“You were stupid not to tell anyone!” He couldn’t help it. He had wanted to say it to her face for years.

“Sandor that is enough. That isn’t helping,” Botley’s voice was firm.

Neither Sandor nor Sansa listened to him.

“How can you say that to me!” she shrieked, yanking her hand away and slapping him, not gently. “You! You of all people!”

Sansa rocked back in forth in the chair, pulling at her hair – yanking at her hair – and breathing fast and heavily. “You know what he is like Sandor! You know what he’d do if I reported it! Remember this?”

Sansa suddenly rolled on her side and pulled up the tank top. She didn’t seem to notice that she exposed her left breast too. She pointed to the long, pink scar running from just below her belly button up to nearly her armpit. The lawyers leaned in to see but Sandor lowered his gaze. They’d never seen it before. Sandor had. He’d seen all stages of its recovery; from fresh to scarred. He’d been the one to help her change the bandages while it healed.

“Remember that Sandor!?” she exclaimed.

“I can’t forget it,” he mumbled.

She was yelling now, screaming at him. “He tried to fucking _gut_ me!”

“What did you want me to do?”

“I wanted you to protect me! That’s why I hired you!”

“I _always_ tried to protect you! I did everything you _allowed_ me to do!” Sandor shouted back, running his hand through his black hair. It was greasy. He needed another shower.

“Sandor, yelling back isn’t going to diffuse the situation,” Selna attempted, stepping forwards from behind Sansa.

“Let him fucking yell!” Sansa screeched at her. “At least he doesn’t treat me like I’m helpless – and he doesn’t lie to me!”

Sansa’s attention was completely on Sandor again. “Remember? I told Ramsey that Gendry was coming for a visit because he had a job interview here in Winterfell and I refused to let him stay at a hotel. Who lets a friend stay in a hotel when they have a mansion with a dozen extra, empty rooms!”

“Who is Gendry?” one of the lawyers asked, scribbling down the name. Sandor couldn’t remember their name.

“My best friend in college.” Sansa clarified at the same time Sandor stood and said, “Her best friend in college – Gendry Waters.”

“You were in his office with me when I told him. He said _no._ I protested and told him it was my house too. And Gendry stayed at the house, despite Ramsey telling me no in no uncertain terms. After the three days, when Gendry left, _he did this to me,_ after work. I can still feel the serrated knife sawing at my skin, Sandor. This happened _after_ he went to anger management classes! Remember? _After_ Sandor _! After!_ ”

“You told everyone that it was a mugging. That you got attacked after work while I was pulling the car around!” he shouted, pacing now. He was so angry. Just _so angry._

“And you fucking believed that!” Sansa’s voice went shrill at the same time she was no longer able to hold back the tears. She yanked the tank top down and wiped her eyes viciously on the hem. That only caused her to yelp in pain when she bumped her fist into her bandaged cheek. Selna tried to help her but she only got screamed at for her efforts. Selna backed away and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Not for a fucking second,” Sandor growled, letting his anger break through and show. He could only keep the reins on it for so long. “But that’s the fucking story you told me. That’s the story you told the fucking office. That’s the story you told the fucking cops. I couldn’t force you to tell the truth!”

“You could have tried! If you knew!”

“I knew what had happened – I just didn’t know the details, but I knew that it was him. Or it was someone he had hired. Maybe even one of _his_ employees. I wasn’t sure but I knew it wasn’t a fucking mugging.”

“I told you when you were an innocent teenager: I can smell a fucking lie. If you didn’t want to tell anyone that your husband got mad at you because you had a friend stay at the house, and that he got so mad he tried to fucking gut you like a gods-damned fish, then what the hells was I supposed to fucking do! What should I have done Sansa! Tell me because if I could go back in time, I would change a whole lot of fucking things.”

“You could have kept encouraging me to leave!” she screeched. Her eyes were red and blood shot, her voice was raw and cracking. The red spot on the bandage on her cheek was growing. “You always helped me make the right decisions! Sandor, you always showed me what the right thing to do was!”

Sandor’s heated steps faltered.

“I have my career because of you, because of the things you taught me when I was an undergrad. The, the, the _shit_ that I thought was so rude and mean and just hateful because you were a rude and mean and hateful drunk man back then; that, that _shit_ was strengthening my skin, was building up my walls. It was preparing me for the world! When you left, I started to realize it, but I _knew_ it when I moved to the Vale: you were the kindest person to me! _You_ were the one who truly had my best interests at heart! _You_ were the only one actually trying to teach me something worthwhile!” Sansa’s voice dropped. The energy was draining out of her. “I am who I am and have what I do today, because of _you_!” She looked at him, desperate for him to look at her. “Sandor, you could have told someone for me.”

“I am _now_. I’ve told the lawyers everything now, and I’ll be telling them even more when we get to the interview stage of things. It’s been a long handful of years that I’ve been a witness to, Sansa. I’m telling someone now.” He clenched his teeth and his fists.

“Why didn’t you do something _then?_ ”

“For fucks sake Sansa!!” Sandor roared, “I moved into your house while you were in the hospital, fighting for your life after he gutted you!”

Sandor was vaguely aware of the lawyers taking notes on what was said.

“Sansa, did you not notice how, after you woke up from the many surgeries, I stayed even closer to your side than I did before? I slept on the floor in your hospital room while your siblings took the chairs. And when there were too many people inside, I slept on the floor in the hallway outside your room. But I never slept when Ramsey was there.”

Sandor wanted to scream. He wanted to punch the wall. He wanted to kick the trashcan through the window. “And when you were released, I was practically fucking glued to your hip! I moved my desk, my entire office to your outer office – much to the dismay of Jeyne! You had to walk to the breakroom? Well I did too then. I barely left your side for more than a quick trip to the bathroom. Why? Why? Because I was trying to protect you from him! I never left your side again to get the car. We started using the car service and I always sat in the back with you. I made sure I was never more than a dozen feet away from you at all times because all the worst beatings he inflicted on you happened when I wasn’t around! He knew that I could snap him like a small branch. He knew that I hated him. He knew that I knew everything. So, he’d keep the slaps to a minimum when I was in the room or nearby. I couldn’t fucking believe that no one else saw what I did. I still fucking can’t.”

“Why didn’t you whisk me away?” she was crying again.

Sandor wanted to reach out and hold her, he wanted to envelope her and make everything better. He wanted to hold her so bad his arms ached, but he knew she was still mad, still livid. She was still scared. Sansa was a strong woman. She had a nasty temper when upset. Allowing her weakness to be visibly recognized with someone holding her was too much. She wouldn’t allow herself the luxury. Instead, Sandor had to stand there and ache.

“Why didn’t you tell me to get out after the first couple of times you noticed the abuse!”

“I didn’t know what you wanted.”

“That’s a fucking lie and you know it!” she screamed. “After everything, after all that we’ve been through together! After Kings Landing? After working for me? After being my go-to guy? How can you _fucking_ lie to me! You promised me you would never lie to me!”

“I’m not lying!”

“That’s a fucking lie too!”

“No, no, it is not a fucking lie!” he bellowed.

Sandor paused to let his heart settle and to lower his voice. He knew he was on thin ice with his raised voice; Selna was eying him closely. Surely, she had to know that he would _never_ hurt Sansa. Right?

Sandor swallowed and in a more even voice said, “I knew you wanted out, Sansa. But I knew you wanted to keep _your_ company together! That first time – when you hired me years ago – you told me how you couldn’t divorce him without losing a part of your company! I just didn’t know which you wanted more: if you wanted your company to stay enact or if you wanted happiness at home!”

“I wanted to be _safe_! I wanted to be free of Ramsey and his impulses and his fucked-up desires! I didn’t want to be his punching bag anymore. I didn’t want to be his knife block or his ashtray anymore! I wanted out, Sandor, from the moment I said, ‘I Do’, and the reasons for wanting out only grew in number the longer I was married to him! I thought you knew. I thought you _knew_. I thought after being so close and after we our friendship developed, I thought you knew. I thought you knew _every_ thing. I thought you knew everything that he did to me.”

“Fucking hells Sansa!” Sandor thundered. “I _did_ see it all. I _did_ know everything. I saw the bruises on your wrists or your ankles from when he tied you up. At first, I thought you were into that sort of thing, into BDSM. But I quickly realized your moods were so sour, so deflated and negative when those bruises appeared. I knew it was against your will. I saw the welts on your arms and legs and body when you changed outfits or clothes. I saw the small round burns and knew right away those were cigarette burns. You stopped wearing short sleeves or going jacket-less. You only wore pants or thick tights. Often you had a scarf or a kerchief around your neck – even in the summer! It was so obvious. And Gods, Sansa, you are so fucking talented with make-up. But on the weekends or when you weren’t going into the office and weren’t planning on leaving the house, you didn’t always cover up the welts or handprints or bruises on your face and neck and hands so well.”

Sandor’s voice cracked, “I saw the way you would limp or waddle or refuse to sit except to balance on the edge of a chair, on your butt bones, after a rough night. I knew what was happening, what was going to happen to you, when he dismissed me for the night. He knew that I knew that if I tried to disobey an order from him, and remain at your side to protect you, that you would pay for my insolence dearly, the next time you two were alone. I couldn’t do anything, but I knew exactly what was happening!”

“Why the fuck didn’t you do anything!”

“I _couldn’t_ do anything!”

“Why didn’t you try!”

“I did! I asked you once, if you wanted me to take you to a shelter or to a safe house or your brother’s house or hell, to my house! You told me it was a one-time thing, that he’d gotten very drunk.”

“Clearly it wasn’t a _one-time thing!_ If you knew so much, why did you not step in?!”

Sandor whirled around, fed up with the circles they were making, and placed his hands on the arms of her chair and glared at her, mad at the beautiful redhead he’d devoted his life to. It was the first time ever that he was mad at her. His voice was low, raspy, and menacing. His eyes showed fury that he thought had gotten rid of after the years of therapy when he first came back from the war. Helplessness trickled in his blood veins, fueling his self-loathing. He was a foot from her face.

Sansa, despite the alarm she showed from having never seen him in this kind of a rage, didn’t flinch as he leaned in closer to her face and growled, “I didn’t step in because the last time I did something, the last time I meddled in a domestic abuse situation because I cared deeply about the victim, the last time I tried to help,” Sandor’s voice cracked again and he licked his lips trying to steel his nerves into continuing, “last time I did anything, my sister was murdered for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me for this cliff hanger! Actually, that's a lie, please hate on me in the comments and with kudos!
> 
> Because of work and school (and oh my gods I'm so overwhelmed), I'm having less time to write. I try to stay five or so chapters ahead of what I've posted. As of right now, I'm 3-4 chapters ahead. So posting will become less frequent but hopefully once a week.
> 
> You can find me on tumbler at [LittleWolfBird](https://littlewolfbird.tumblr.com/), where I frequently slack off and destress. (please let me know if I screwed up the link, I'm learning HTML.)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10 - The Reason Why He Couldn't Be Her Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor explains to Sansa the part of his family history that she didn't know. Note: TW at start of Chapter. 3849 words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on _Innocence_ : Sandor and Sansa meet with the lawyers and find out that she is being charged with Ramsey's murder. Past events get brought up in the meeting that neither Sansa nor Sandor would really like to address, including how Sandor knew about the abuse Sansa suffered as Ramsey's wife. Sandor starts to tell Sansa why he couldn't save her from Ramsey all of these years.

**TRIGGER WARNING: Domestic Violence, Abuse, Assault, Violence against women, Murder, Death**

Sansa sat back.

_I didn’t step in because the last time I did something, the last time I meddled in a domestic abuse situation because I cared deeply about the victim, the last time I tried to help, the last time I did anything, my sister was murdered for it._

Sandor’s words seemed to echo in the room. Or maybe they were echoing in his head, having said his fear out loud for the first time ever. Having confessed one of his closest kept secrets and his biggest regret.

Sansa seemed to melt into the chair. Her eyes opened wide and the sapphire blue bore through his steely grey eyes, into his soul, begging him. Wanting to know more but unsure if she could take any more heartbreak.

“Your sister is alive,” she finally whispered, urgently as if trying to remind him. “You just went to visit Alyce, and her kids. She just had a boy, not six months ago. She drives you insane and you love to complain about her, but you also love her very much. You’ve told me how you like your good brother! And she, Alyce, is very, _very_ much alive.”

“I had two sisters, Sansa!” Sandor shouted, straightening up and banging his fist on the table. The water glasses jumped and clanked together. Sansa’s eyes were wide. Sansa’s eyes were _afraid_. Of him. Sandor quickly lost his steam and he sank into the chair next to her. “I had two sisters, little bird.”

“I…I never knew,” she mumbled.

“Ellya was five years older than me. Fuck, she was my best friend. We were close. We were tight. We did _everything_ together. Double dates, pranks, detention, everything. She taught me to drive. She taught me how to treat a girl, how to treat women. You know my dad wasn’t around as a kid. When that time came, she taught me what was okay and not okay when having sex. There wasn’t a secret between us.”

Sandor glanced at Sansa. He had her undivided attention. But she still shook. Her jaw was clenched – the way it would be around her husband when she was afraid of saying something that would anger him, that would make her lash out at him. And it made Sandor feel like the worst man alive. She was afraid of _him_. He was supposed to be the one person who she could count on, who she didn’t have to walk on eggshells around. Was that trust, that friendship, that they had gone? All because he had never told her about Ellya? Was he going to lose her? Sandor felt like the weight of a dragon was on his chest. He couldn’t imagine his life without Sansa in it. He had to try and fix this, mend this, show her that he’d never hurt her. So, Sandor kept talking, kept trying to explain why he never saved her.

“When I was a senior in high school, Ellya got married. They met in college and I was the first one she introduced him to. If I didn’t like him, then she wouldn’t want him around. I thought she had married a great guy. He treated her right and was great with the family too. He supported her career and encourage her not to drop out of school, just because they got married – it was her final year. She was so happy, Sansa. I’d never seen her like that. She was giddy and danced around the house. And she called me twice a day – usually it was just once a day. She was so… _happy.”_

Sandor pursed his lips and closed his eyes, remembering Ellya’s long, jet black hair as she whirled about. It’d hit him in the face, and he’d bark at her. But he didn’t have a bite, not back then and certainly not towards her. Then she’d grab him and force him to dance around the living room. She’d laugh and laugh. It was infectious. Alyce had her demons and depression but Ellya kept everyone moving forward.

Suddenly his eyes popped open. He stared at Sansa and for the first time, realized how much she reminded him of Ellya. The long, vibrant hair. The strong, determined spirit. The kindness. The love. The joy she brought him. His eyes watered when he realized that, just like Ellya, Sansa’s fire had nearly been snuffed out by her husband.

Sandor cleared his throat and continued, “I graduated from high school and joined the Army. I didn’t know what I wanted to do and it seemed pointless to me to waste my time in school when I had no drive or direction. And I did really well in the Army. I excelled at all of basic training and devoured the special training my superiors thought would be useful to me as I decided – as the Army decided what I should do and where my career should go. Moved up ranks. Got even more special training. Became one of the best.” Sandor caught himself, “but you know all that stuff though.”

All Sansa could do was nod. She never took her eyes off his face. Her brows were pulled together. Was it concern for his story and the pain he’d carried silently inside of him? Or was it from concentration, trying to determine if he was actually the scary man everyone tried to tell her he was? _Gods_ , he hoped it was the first.

“Part of the special training I had was learning to read and understand body language. I excelled in that too. I told you all of those years ago, when you first moved to King’s Landing, that I can sniff out a lie in any room. I wasn’t lying. I really can. But I’m not superhuman either. I see and sense the micro changes that humans subconsciously make when they lie. King of like reading someone’s tell in a poker game, except more subtle.”

“I still think you’re superhuman,” she whispered so softly that had Sandor not seen her lips moved, he would have wondered if his mind had been playing tricks on him.

“Because of this skill, when I was on leave for the first time since joining the Army, it was Sevenmas, the only time of the year when I got to take leave, I subconsciously used my newly acquired and honed skills on my family. I learned more about Alyce than I ever wanted to, and she still holds it over my head to this day. But it was Ellya and her husband’s second Sevenmas as a married couple. They had only been married fifteen or eighteen months. I was startled when I saw the signs. I saw _all_ the signs.”

Sansa reached out suddenly but hesitated. Sandor watched her hand closely, fixated on it, but confused. Her hand hovered over his for a moment. She finally made up her mind and grabbed his hand in hers. She held it tight, lacing her fingers with his, pulling his arm towards her body to hold him close. Sandor nearly gasped to hold back his tears. He swallowed heavily instead and continued.

“I watched for _years_ while he abused her. While he pulled her away from us. From me.” Sandor sighed heavily, feeling old and tired and drained, “I watched as she became the shell of the person she was. When she missed Alyce’s high school graduation and mom’s fiftieth birthday celebration extravaganza that had been planned so that they were only days apart and the family could be together for both events, I snapped. Alyce was crushed that Ellya wasn’t there. They were close too – you know how sisters stick together even if they don’t always get along. Imagine if Arya were nearly fourteen years younger than you. That’s the way Ellya and Alyce were. Alyce didn’t know what was going on, so when Ellya wasn’t there, she thought she had done something to piss her off.”

Sandor sighed, “Mom didn’t know what was happening either. She tried to shrug Ellya’s absence off, but she was hurt too. That behavior just wasn’t like Ellya. Not to them at least. Besides, to mom and Alyce, she lived not even an hour way – in traffic! – and it seemed like she couldn’t be bothered to make it. Or call and apologize. They were crushed and I snapped.”

Sansa’s eyes widened as he saw her mind race with possibilities. She was pondering what ‘snapped’ meant.He wished that he’d never hit the table. He wished that he’d never put the small amount of fear she now had of him, in her. Sandor didn’t know what he would do if she truly was afraid of him.

“At some point during my leave, I borrowed mom’s truck and drove over to Ellya’s house. I confronted her. I banged on the door and demanded that she open up, that she let me in. I shouted that mom was sad and Alyce was crushed, and that it was all her fault. I regretted saying it the second it slipped from my mouth. But I didn’t know now what I knew then. I didn’t know that saying that was one of the worse things I could say to a victim, of any crime. I wasn’t blaming her for being the reason her husband hit her. No, I guess I was, in a way, blaming her. I just didn’t understand. It’s a lame excuse but I was ignorant. Later that year there was a case where I was stationed of Domestic Violence. I was involved in the investigation and I learned a lot. I realized that Ellya couldn’t leave. Ellya was’t responsible to missing the party.”

Sandor shook his head when Sansa gave his hand a squeeze. “Anyway, that day I went to her house and Ellya finally answered the door, she had forgotten to put on make-up or sunglasses. Unlike your husband,” Sansa stiffened, and Sandor closed his hand so she couldn’t take back hers, “Ellya’s husband didn’t care if her face was bloody and swollen and black and blue. He hit her wherever he wanted to.”

He closed his eyes and he could still see her slouched shoulders and the way she couldn’t meet his eyes. “When I finally found my tongue, from shock of actually seeing her battered, I told Ellya that she had to leave. I told her she had to get out and I’d help her. We’d go upstairs right then and there and back her bags and I’d drive her away. I told her that she would come live with me on the base – that she’d be safe there, that he’d never find her there, and if he did, he’d never be able to get to her. I told her that she’d get help and that she’d recover. I told her that she’d never have to see him again, that I would find the best lawyers I could, and I’d get her out of the marriage. I told her that I’d support her till she was feeling better and back on her feet. I told her that she _had to get out_.”

Sandor clenched his jaw at the last words, tension rippling throughout his body. Anger. Sadness. Regret.

Sansa added her second hand to his one, squeezing as hard as her exhausted body would let her, as she pulled him closer to her broken ribs. It was like she was trying to ground him.

Sandor looked at their joined hands for a long time in silence before continuing; drawing strength from their connection.

His voice was softer now, sad more than anything else. His eyes were distant, as though he were seeing the memory, instead of reality, in front of him. “When I was done giving my speech, Ellya begged me to go away, to leave her alone. She said I had to get away from the house. She said that her husband was on his way home from work and he would be angry if he saw me there unannounced and uninvited. She said he didn’t like the way the family kept trying to pull her away from him. I tried to say that we were doing no such thing, but she just shook her head. ‘It’s what he believes,’ she whispered. Then she shoved me out of the way and slammed the door in my face.”

Sandor gulped. “I didn’t hear from her for a long time. Then seven months later, she called me. Ellya sounded older, tired, scared. She said she was in a shelter. She’d gotten out. She’d finally found the courage to leave. She said she rode busses for two days crisscrossing town, trying to throw off her scent so he couldn’t find her. She didn’t have time to take anything with her. Only what was on her back and in her hand when she walked to the bus stop. Ellya had been at the shelter for a week but since she was refusing treatment or participation, the shelter said she’d hae to leave. I mean, what kind of women’s shelter expects something from a woman in exchange for their services?” Sandor scoffed, “One run by the Faith, that’s who. Fucking parasites, the lot of them.”

Sansa only nodded. She knew all too well from her time in the South what the Faith of the Seven could be like. They didn’t help her then any more than they had helped Ellya.

Sandor continued, “She wanted me to come and pick her up, to take her home with me. She wanted me to protect her. She wanted to feel safe again. She wanted to feel loved. She kept saying she was sorry, and I kept saying that I was sorrier and that she shouldn’t be saying sorry. As I kept her on the line – I didn’t want to hang up for fear she’d evaporate and I’d never see her again – I promised her I was on the next flight, the red eye. I’d be there in the morning. It wasn’t a lie; I was booking my flight as I spoke to her. It wasn’t cheap but I didn’t care. She only had to stay the one night in the shelter, I told her. Just one more night.”

Sandor stopped speaking for a while. He couldn’t find the words. He didn’t know how to convey how scared he had been. He didn’t know how to tell Sansa that, in those moments when Ramsey had her alone, she was Ellya all over again. Not the same person, but a reimagining of her, there by the will of the Gods to punish Sandor for not doing something more. Or for doing something at all.

“Sandor?” she whispered, squeezing his hand.

His name, on her tongue, brought him out of all of the what-if’s and regrets. He studied her face and the way she pursed her lips, her eyebrows constricting out of concern for him. Sandor wiped his eyes and cleared his throat.

“The next morning when I landed, as soon as I stepped into the airport, I was trying to rent a car. But I was greeted by a couple of police detectives. They didn’t have to say anything other than, “we’ll give you a ride.” They drove me to the morgue instead of the shelter. They needed me to identify her body. She was found in the middle of the night by a young family on a walk, trying to get their infant to sleep. Instead of taking my sister home and giving her her life back, I took home my sister’s body and buried her in our hometown cemetery next to my mom and dad.”

“He found her,” Sansa whispered; her voice was so shaky that Sandor’s head snapped up. Tears were streaming down her face.

No, no. Strong Sansa wasn’t supposed to cry. Not for him. She was his rock in this horrible world. He leaned over and flicked them away with his free hand, but never sat back. He needed her closeness now.

Sandor nodded. “We found out during the subsequent investigation that her husband was tracking her phone. She’d turned it off before she left the house, when she ran away. And when she turned it back on to call me, it gave him a target to follow. It was like a spotlight telling him exactly where to go. She didn’t have any money – he controlled everything – so she couldn’t get far. Just to the other side of the city. It would have been so, so very fucking easy for him. It probably was. I tried to get her out, I tried to save her, and she got killed for my efforts.”

Sandor finally looked into her eyes. He pleaded with her to understand. He needed her to comprehend, now that she knew everything.

“Don’t you see? Can’t you see now, Little Bird, why I never made more of an effort? I know what happens when you don’t get far enough; when you don’t, when you can’t get out, but you try anyway. I was scared that I couldn’t get you far enough away. I didn’t want to lose you too…and I almost did anyways.”

There was a long silence filled only with the intermittent page from the intercom in the hallway. A code for a patient. The front desk asking for a doctor to take a call. Selna’s pager beeped once but was quickly stopped. The tick, tick, tick of the clock hanging on the wall was the only thing that showed the passage of time.

Sansa’s voice cracked, “Do you think Ramsey…Sandor do you think…did he track me?”

“Probably,” Sandor admitted, regretfully, nodding.

Sansa bit her lip as she tried to stifle a cry of fear.

“I tried my fucking hardest to keep you safe, Sansa,” Sandor beseeched her to understand, to see that he had done more than she knew. “I had the team at the company secure all of your devices; your cellphone, your computers, your tablets – I mean they secured _everything,_ absolutely _everything_ – because of what happened to Ellya.”

Sandor took a breath. He could feel himself starting to shake. But he had to pull it together, for her.

“I tried to have every precaution in place. I was alerted the second he entered the building to visit you. That’s I always was in your office, discussing something mundane with you when he arrived.” Sandor let out a long breath, his shoulder sagging, “I am only human. So are the good people who work for you. We tried to think of everything and combat it before it became a problem. But people can do anything they want if they want something bad enough. And Ramsey had a lot of money to burn – he could easily do whatever he wanted. What he wanted more than anything else was to control you.”

“I called my brother. I called Robby,” she was trembling, panic building and rising up inside. Her breath accelerated. “Sandor, I called my brother when I got home from work with Tormund. Yesterday? No, the day before Rams-Rams…the day before _he_ came home. I called my brother…I called my brother and the next day he was dragging me through the house by my hair…”

Sansa was tugging on her hair, her mind inevitably back to that day, that night. Sandor reached forward and griped her arm, trying to stop her. He looked to the lawyers for help.

One gentleman, Mikal Porter, spoke up slowly, considering his words carefully, “perhaps your husband used a bug at the house then. They are not hard to come by. If your phone was secure, like Mr. Clegane says, then it couldn’t have been from your phone. We will look into the possibility of a bug in the house, and we’ll double check your phone – in the possible chance that Mr. Bolton found and broke the security of the phone. No matter what, we’ll prove he was violating your privacy, Dr. Stark. Mr. Clegane is right though; Mr. Bolton had money – he could have gotten whatever he wanted. He probably returned home as soon as he heard you were leaving him.”

“Oh Gods,” Sansa moaned, her head rolling forwards and her hands flying to cradle her head. She rocked back and forth, panting, “Oh Gods. Oh, Gods, what have I done?”

Sandor in an instant was kneeling on the hard, cold tile in front of her, his hands on the arms of the chair, waiting for her tell him it was okay to hold her.

“They think I killed him on purpose. They’ll think I hated him. And I did. I hated him so much. I killed him, Sandor!” she was hyperventilating, panicking, falling into another hysteric episode. “They’re going to lock me away forever. What will you do? What will happen to my company? What will happen to my family?”

Sandor ignored every doctor and nurse who had told him to get explicit permission before holding her, before hugging her. He pulled her to his chest, despite her knees being between their bodies, and wrapped his arms around her body. He was careful to not squeeze too hard, for fear of hurting her already broken ribs.

He whispered low in her ear, “I won’t let that happen, Little Bird.”

“They’ll never believe me,” she lowered her knees with pained difficulty and flung her arms around his neck, clinging to him. “Please don’t go Sandor. Please don’t! I don’t feel safe without you.”

“I’m not leaving you, love. We’ll figure this out together.”

“What do I do Sandor? What do I do?”

“To start,” Selna spoke up, stepping forwards, “we need to get you back to your room and back into bed. You’ve had too much excitement for now.”

“We’ll keep you informed,” the lawyers said, knowing when to take their leave.

“We will handle everything, Dr. Stark. Don’t worry too much.”

“Where can I find you later?” Sandor suddenly asked, looking up.

“At the firm,” Mrs. Tradd replied. “And you can call us.”

“Okay.”

They left the room solemnly.

“Come on, Ms. Sansa.” Selna said, taking one of Sansa’s elbows and gently pulling her to stand.

Sandor rose with the motion, but Sansa’s knees never locked. She started to fall back into the chair until Sandor tightened his arms around her.

“You’ve worked yourself up too much. I’ll go get a wheelchair,” Selna said quickly.

“No need.” Sandor rasped. “I’ll carry her.”

Selna eyed him a long moment, probably remembering his outburst earlier, before nodding, “you be gentle now.”

“He wouldn’t ever hurt me,” Sansa mumbled from behind half closed eyelids as Sandor cradled her in his arms.

“Aye, that’s right, Little Bird,” he cooed, “I won’t ever hurt you.”

“Not intentionally,” Selna added. “You’re a strong man, Mr. Clegane. And you can be filled with so much hate. Hate leads people to do vicious things.”

“Aye, I have my share of hate. But never once has it ever been directed at Sansa. And never has it or will it be directed at her physically.”

“For some reason, I believe you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short one for me. I hope things start to make sense now. Sandor had two sisters plus Gregor (who hasn't been mentioned yet in this story). Does the "previously on" help at all? Please leave kudos and comments, I am selfish and love to hear from you all!
> 
> P.S. is anyone interested in Beta'ing for me? Like, hard core close reading to keep the details straight, etc?


	11. Chapter 11 - Her Will to Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of everything Sandor has shared with Sansa, she reveals something to him. And it devastates him. TW at start of chapter. 3224 Words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously On _Innocence_ : Sandor opens up to Sansa about the tragic past of his family and how losing his older sister has prevented him from taking more action.
> 
> Another shortie for you guys. Originally this was going to be one long chapter with Chapter 10, but I decided to break them apart.
> 
> **  
> **Trigger Warning  
>  **  
>  **

**TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal Thoughts**

They crossed the hospital quickly. Sandor periodically murmured comforting words to Sansa as she whimpered or sniffled in his arms. A security guard opened the double doors for them. Selna dimmed the overhead light in Sansa’s room as Sandor laid her down in the bed. The nurse closed the curtains, softening the early evening sunlight.

“It’s almost time for dinner, Ms. Sansa. I’ll go check on it for you. Then, we’ll need to change some of your bandages. You’ve opened some scabs I’m afraid.”

Sansa nodded without much energy, like she didn’t care.

Selna nodded and left the room.

“Do you need something for the pain? Something to sleep? A cup of Milk of the Poppy?” Sandor wondered as he pulled the chair close to the edge of the bed since Sansa wouldn’t let go of his hand.

“Will I wake up?”

“What do you mean?”

“After I take something? Will I eventually wake up again?”

“Yes, of course, when it wears off.”

“Then no,” Sansa shook her head, “I don’t want anything.”

Sandor stared at her face, shocked, but she wouldn’t look up from their hands.

“You’re not talking about what I think you’re talking about, are you?”

Sansa turned her head away.

“Look at me, Little Bird,” Sandor said tenderly.

She didn’t, wouldn’t.

Sandor reached up and gently turned her chin with two fingers. Sansa put up no effort to resist him but still wouldn’t meet his eyes. The sick feeling in his stomach returned – the one he had when he was walking through the Mansion, following the blood trail, thinking that she might be dead.

“Love, please tell me that you’re not asking for something to make you sleep forever.”

“Would that be so terrible? To escape the world, this nightmare that is suddenly my life?”

“Yes! It would be terrible!” Sandor couldn’t believe his ears.

She barked out a laugh, “My life is not even _suddenly_ a nightmare, Sandor. This nightmare has been my life for years!”

“But it’s going to get better now!’

“No, I’m getting arrested for murdering the man who’s beat me daily for five years. I don’t want to find out how the trial goes, Sandor. I want to sleep. I know how women are treated in cases like mine. I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to be dragged through the mud, my personal nightmare on display for the country and the world to see.”

“No, no,” he repeated like a chant or a prayer.

“Sandor, I want to go to sleep because I am so, so very tired. And I never want to wake up. I’ve wanted this for a long time. Only now, now seems like a very good time to say good night.”

Sandor let his head fall onto their joined hands, his shoulders sagging. He didn’t move, except for the shake of his body. He clamped his mouth shut and pressed his hand to it, trying to prevent any sound from escaping.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t understand what was happening to him. He couldn’t understand why his world was collapsing around him. Again. What had he done to anger the Gods this time? What had he done last time? Was he really that bad of a man?

_Oh Gods, it hurt._

There was a pain in his chest. A pain so deep he wondered what was actually hurting. But he knew, he knew what it was. It was the sound of his heart breaking and ripping his world apart right with it. It was the sound of everything he was sure of, falling apart all over again.

What was the fucking point!

What was the point of staying to protect her, when he knew he really couldn’t do anything that would matter? She still went up every night to the bed she shared with the man she didn’t love. The man who did awful, vile things to her.

Sometimes, he’d hear her scream. Sometimes he’d hear her sobbing. Afterwards, she’d always find her way to his bedroom door, asking for help. What was the point of patching her up time and time again; of saving her and getting her to the hospital; of telling the lawyers everything? What was the point of it all if she was only going to slip off into a sleep she’d never wake from?

What was the fucking point?

That and, why was she doing this to _him_?

“San…Sandor?” her voice was tiny, terrified

Sandor didn’t move except to cry harder at the sound.

“Sandor?” she begged the big strong man who was falling apart.

He finally looked up to let her see the tears streaming down on his cheeks, both on the good one and on the burned one. His eyes were rimmed in red and bloodshot. He sniffled and tried to take a deep breath, a calming one. It didn’t work. Sandor’s chin wobbled and he folded his lips inwards and bit them. Another sob quaked in his chest, compounded by having no audible escape. He shook his head, letting go of her hands to vigorously scrub his eyes. Where was all of this water coming from! He hated that he was crying, that he wasn’t alone while he cried. He hated that she was seeing him blubber like a young child.

“ _Please_ Sandor, what’s wrong?”

Her voice was so small, so innocent, so unknowing that Sandor felt big round of tears fall as a sob escaped, unbidden.

The sound startled her, and Sansa took her hand out of his grasp.

The empty space now occupying his hand was wrong, cold. He didn’t like it. Nothing was grounding him anymore. He was ready to bolt when she tenderly stroked his burned cheek with the hand he was just holding.

She spoke softly, confused, “Why are you crying?”

“Silly little bird,” he couldn’t help but shake his head at her, nearly chuckling. “Silly, silly little bird.”

“What makes me silly?”

“Oh Sansa,” he cried, closing his eyes. He raised his own hand to keep hers on his cheek and pressed it close to him. He imagined he could almost feel her smooth palm.

“Why am I silly, Sandor?”

He sighed, “You make me so sad.”

“I don’t want to make you sad.”

“And you make me hurt; you make my chest hurt so badly.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.

Sandor dropped his face onto the bed again, unable to hold back the lump in his throat any longer. This time, he didn’t try to suppress the wailing. Everything hurt so much that it felt like this was the only way to alleviate the pain.

At some point, he didn’t know when and he didn’t know how much time had passed, it got easier to breathe. The clenching, twisting ache under his sternum was ebbing away. The tears weren’t flowing with as much gusto anymore. The tension, the tightness in his shoulders, in his whole body, eased just enough that he didn’t feel like he was in fight mode.

Now, Sandor was just tired.

He was exhausted.

“Sandor?”

“I’m alright, love,” he said, lifting his head.

“I’ve never,” she raised a hand to scratch his beard again, “I’ve never seen you cry Sandor.”

That brought a chuckled out and he breathed out so fast he blew snot on her hands. He quickly wiped them with the blanket, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her focus was on him, his face; her brow knit together in concern.

“Aye, I don’t cry very often. Maybe that’s why I have so much in me to let out,” he said, shrugging. “And I don’t cry when people are around.”

“Then, why now?”

“I’m sad.

“But why?”

“You make me sad.”

“Sandor, I don’t understand.”

“Oh, Sansa,” he sighed, “I’m sad because you’re losing your fire.”

“It was snuffed out years ago.”

“No, he tried to snuff it out, but you’ve refused to be buried by sand,” Sandor countered gruffly. “Now, when the future is full of such possibility, you’re losing it. You’re losing your will to fight and live. And that, that fucking devastates me.”

She didn’t speak for a minute, running her hands through his hair.

It felt so good. He wanted to close his eyes and hum because if he could purr, he would.

When she did speak, her voice was low, timid, “I’ve been kicked and beaten down so much. Sandor, I don’t know if I can get up again.”

“But you’ve never been a quitter!” he exclaimed.

Sansa just shook her head.

“You’ve never given up on anything before! You’ve been delayed, yes, but you have never let that stop you. You kept getting up every time you were pushed into the dirt.”

“I have no more fight in me, Sandor!”

“If that’s true, then that makes me even more unhappy.”

“I don’t want you to be sad for me. Because of me.”

Sandor sighed and rubbed his hands along her hip, playing with the hem of the blanket.

She slipped her free hand into his grasp and he tightened his hold, afraid she’d disappear. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Quietly, feeling the tension return to his throat and chest, he murmured, “Did you hear nothing of what I told you earlier?”

“I did.”

“Then how can you be saying these things to me?” he let out a howl. “How can you be asking me to help you throw in the towel? I lost my sister. I can’t lose you too.”

“I escaped him, Sandor, but he’s gotten the last laugh,” she sniffled, running her hand through his hair. “I’m losing my life because I took his. I don’t want that. I don’t want to live a life anymore where he has me in any sort of cage. And now, I’m really going to a cage. A real one! I don’t want to.”

“You’re not going to jail.”

“Not yet,” she countered.

“Well, I don’t want to be without you in my life anymore.”

“Sandor…I can’t…I want to sleep and never wake up. I’ve wanted to for a while. For a long time. I don’t know what else to live for.”

He kissed her knuckles and held them pressed to his lips. Neither of them noticed the snot and tears running down his face but the shake of his massive shoulders was impossible to miss.

In broken pauses, Sandor wheezed, “Then live for keeping me happy, Sansa. It’s selfish on my part. I know. It’s probably unhealthy too for me to keep you so close but unable to pull you closer – unable pull you into my arms like I want to. But I don’t care if it destroys me. I don’t care if I never have a whole heart and I never get my dreams. I don’t care. Not if it means keeping you alive. Live because _I_ need you to live.”

“Sandor?”

Sansa scooted down in the bed, so she was lying flat, their eyes at the same level, inches apart on either side of their joined hands.

He couldn’t look in her eyes; her eyes as blue as the bluest waters on Tarth. He couldn’t bear to look into his favorite eyes and see that they were lifeless and had given up all hope.

Instead, he focused on her hands, woven with his. But it didn’t stop him from seeing the red of her hair in his peripheral vision. It was everywhere.

“Sandor?” she whispered again. “Please look at me, Sandor.”

He didn’t raise his eyes.

After a short breath, she spoke anyways.

“All those years ago, back when you were angry and paid to protect Joffrey, and I was so naïve, and young – Gods I was so stupid I don’t know how you tolerated me, let alone sought out a position at my brand new company years later – you always told me to look at you, to look you in the eyes.”

“I thought my scars scared you,” he mumbled, “and I hated that, hated you for it – I hated the physical reaction you had, written all over your face.”

“Silly Sandor,” Sansa sounded like she was smiling.

But Sandor didn’t want to see her smile, it would make him sad to know that her smile didn’t come from her soul – it was just a mask. He kept his eyes focused on the broken nail on her right hand.

“Sandor, it was never about your scars. Yes, they were shocking at first. But that was because I’d never seen burn scars before.”

“And it scared you.”

“No,” she said sharply. “The hatred for the world and the anger for everything in it that you had in your eyes, _that_ was what terrified me. And when you came in for your first interview with my company, I hired you before you even sat down.”

“Your interview process took weeks and it was so rigorous that I almost withdrew my application,” he whispered. “If I was hired when I walked in the door, why put me through all that?”

“I hired you in my mind instantly because I didn’t see the hatred and the anger anymore. You’d gotten help – whatever that meant and entailed – and I was so, _so_ relived you found some semblance of peace.” Sansa chuckled, “as for the interview process, I did it for me. I wanted to see you again after so many years. I didn’t…I didn’t know how to ask you round for a pint like normal friends. And I wanted to see if you were as dedicated and loyal as I remembered; if you really wanted to work for me. You passed with flying colors.”

She fell silent again.

Sandor glanced at her lips and saw how she ground her teeth, choosing her words.

“I don’t know what I would have done these past five years, if you had withdrawn your application,” she whispered so softly he barely heard her. “So please look at me? If for no other reason other than you owe it to me for all the times you asked me to look at you.”

He raised his eyebrow, looking at her own tears. It startled him; how hard she was crying. He looked away quickly.

“I can’t force myself to see you hopeless, Little Bird. You were always so happy and full of life – even during the torment the Lannister’s put you through. I just can’t let myself watch as you decide to give it all up. I want to remember you powerful and strong. I am scared to want to hope that you’ll stay alive – even if it is just for me.”

“Yes, I’ve wanted it all to end for a long time, I’ll not lie to you.”

Sandor took a deep breath, trying to control the sob that rolled through his body, threatening to escape.

“Sandor, what do you think has kept me going this long?”

He couldn’t respond.

Sansa pulled their hands against her breastbone so forcefully he started to pull back, afraid she’d hurt herself. But Sansa didn’t let go. Instead, she shook their hands violently.

“Damn it, Sandor, look at me!”

Sandor’s eyes snapped up. Just as he feared, now he couldn’t look away.

She smiled sadly as she kissed his knuckles. “You, silly. You’re the one who has kept me going this long.”

Sandor blinked hardly, searching her eyes for a lie.

“Your presence was enough. I know your beliefs include preventing harm from befalling your mark, even if it means protecting your mark from themselves. You wouldn’t have let me do anything to myself.”

_Aye_ , he thought but couldn’t say it out loud, _I made mistakes with Joffrey, but I wouldn’t repeat them with you._

He shook his head instead.

“But you gave me something else, Sandor, something more, something that I never thought possible, from you, let alone anyone else. Sandor, you gave me _friendship_ , you gave me _companionship_ , and you gave me _security_. You became my, my my…my person – how could I have done anything to upset the one who did all that? The one who was all that to me?”

“But now?” he croaked. “Now?”

Sander knew he was making something that had very little to do with him, and everything to do with the pain and suffering and chemical imbalance that Sansa was suffering from, all about him. But he was scared. He didn’t know how else to reach her, to reason with her, to help her. And she had _some_ sort of reaction when she saw his feelings on the matter at hand. Maybe she’d hate him in the long run for it, but Sandor would rather run back across a landmine in the middle of a war than not try everything he could. And if that meant manipulating the situation to make it about _hi_ m so that _she_ would find a small will to live? Well, he had no qualms about it. None whatsoever.

“And now, Sansa? You’re okay with ripping my world apart?”

Sansa didn’t say anything.

She searched his eyes and he refused to let himself look away. He was sure that if he did, she would throw in the towel once and for all. Let her see the anguish. Let her know what she was doing to him. It was about time she found out everything.

“Things have changed,” she murmured.

Sandor allowed himself a long blink, letting out more tears. His chest was breaking apart, he was sure of it now; tearing in a million pieces along with his heart.

Perhaps he made a sound, maybe some sort of wail, because she tightened her grip on his hands and pressed her injured cheek to the back of his hand. Her bandage was wet, but it wasn’t red.

Finally she unsteadily said, “If I do this, if I keep fighting and living, I am going to need help, Sandor. If the media hasn’t gotten ahold of this story yet, they soon will. I’ll be pestered from all sides. I won’t be able to go anywhere – I’ll have less freedom than I did before, and I’m not talking about prison. I can’t, Sandor…I can’t do this if I don’t feel safe, if there isn’t at least one person with me who I know I can trust completely. Sandor, I want you…Sandor, will you still stand by my side – through everything and everyone that’s coming for me, like you have the past five years?”

There!

It was just a little spark of hope he felt in his stomach. There was a possibility that she might survive this. And she wanted _his_ help.

Sandor clenched his jaw and nodded. Somehow, he found a bit of his voice. It was low and extra raspy, even to his own ears. But he promised, “If it kills me, inside my chest or outside my body while protecting you. Aye, Little Bird, I’ll continue being your shadow.”

She nodded.

Sandor heaved a sigh of release. She’d live at least another day.

Sansa finally closed her eyes, tension visibly easing from her jaw, though a stray tear did leak onto the bedding. She shimmied closer to him to press her forehead to his.

“Then, as much as I don’t want to go on, I’ll keep living because _you_ want me to. I’ll keep using you, Sandor, as my will to live.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reached 100 Kudos! So I figured you guys need a new chapter. Chapter 12 will come in about a week, or when I hit 2000 views, which ever comes first.
> 
> I have a new SanSan FF out called [**Flight**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22826248/chapters/54553378). Please read, comment, and kudos!


	12. Chapter 12: I See The Way You Look At Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb and Sandor have a heart to heart. Sansa orders a pizza with pineapple and artichoke hearts. 8328 Words. TW at start of chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on _Innocence_ with TW: In the wake of everything Sandor has shared with Sansa, she reveals to him that she's suicidal. And it devastates him.

**TRIGGER WARNING:** discussion of suicide

“Papa!” Bender cried out as ran out of the locker room hallway. The he nine-year-old boy zig-zagged while struggling with the weight of his gear bag. He dropped the bag ten feet away from Robb and sprinted into his father’s open arms.

Robb squeezed him tight and straightened up, spinning around. Bender laughed giddily.

“You came!”

“Of course, I came!” Robb exclaimed, putting him back on the ground. “I told you that I’d come to this one. _And_ your mother reminded me that I had to bring the snacks today.”

“Everyone knows that _mama_ made the granola, papa. She makes the best snacks.”

Robb laughed, “Yes, well, I never signed up to _make_ the food, just _bring_ it. Mama always saves my butt when it comes to your snacks.”

“Is mama still here?”

“No,” Robb said, eyeing his son’s face carefully, looking for any signs of sadness or disappointment, “she had to leave in the third quarter.”

“Then she missed our win!”

“And that fantastic goal you made!”

“But I recorded it and sent her the video,” a third voice chimed in.

“Aunarry!” Bender screamed suddenly ignoring his dad and sprinting to his aunt, who was casually leaning against the cinderblock wall.

Even at nine, Bender already came up past Arya’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her torso and pressed his cheek to her sternum. Arya hugged him back just as tight and pressed a long, sad kiss to the reddish-brown hair on the crown of his head. Robb stuffed his hands deep in his coat pockets when he saw the tear on Arya’s cheek. As Bender pulled away, Arya deftly wiped it so that her nephew didn’t see a thing.

“I didn’t know you’d be here!”

“I didn’t know that either!”

“Did you bring me anything?”

“Bender!” Robb gasped.

Arya chuckled, “Unfortunately, not this time Bender. I didn’t know I was coming until yesterday. I didn’t have a chance to choose anything for you. Sorry.”

Bender shrugged, “That’s okay. The best present is that you came to my game!”

“You bet I did!”

Bender looked around the corner, up and down both hallways. “Is Aunsansa here too? Is she in the toilette? Ooo! Can I scare her as she walks out?”

Robb’s blood ran cold and froze in his veins. He could feel his face paling. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to say.

“Can we go sit on that bench?” Arya asked.

“Yup!” Bender bounced as he pulled Arya by the hand to the bench and sat down.

Robb bent over and picked up the gear bag and followed. He sat on the other side of Bender and rubbed his face.

“Bender,” Arya began, “Aunsansa couldn’t come today.”

“Oh,” Bender’s face fell, and he looked at his hands. His shoulders deflated and he slouched out of his normally pristine posture. He whispered, “she _said_ she was gonna come.”

“I know, B, I know,” Arya took his hands in hers. “She _really_ , _really_ wanted to come. And if she could, she would have.”

“I get it. She’s busy and important.”

“Yes, she is both of those things,” Arya agreed, “but that’s not why she isn’t here.”

Bender looked up at his aunt with his eyebrows pulled together, inquisitive. Robb looked over and knew his son recognized the struggle Arya was having in finding the right words and _saying_ the right words in the right order. A bit of pride swelled for his son as Bender waited patiently.

“B, Aunsansa is sick right now. She had an accident.”

Robb glared at his baby sister. She was toeing the line dangerously close to giving Bender too much information – information that Sansa did not want him to know. Arya wasn’t fazed by his look.

“Is that why you’re here? Is she okay?”

“Well, yes, I came North because she needs a little bit of help right now.”

“Is Aunsansa dying?”

Robb’s eyes widened but Arya didn’t hesitate or react.

“ _No_. Aunsansa is _not_ dying. Okay?”

Bender nodded.

“It’s just…. sometimes people get really hurt but they’re not dying. And when they get really hurt, they need family to help take care of them. That’s why I’m here. Aunsansa needs her sister.”

“Can I help her? Can I come take care of her?” Bender sat straight up. “I can make soup for her. And I can read to her. We can watch a movie together.”

Arya shook her head, “I’m sorry, B, but rest right now is what Aunsansa needs. Kids as cute as you have too much energy.”

“Oh, okay.” Bender sat there pondering this information for a minute. “When is she going to get better?”

“It’s going to be a long time before she’s 100%.”

“Do I have to wait months to see her?”

“I can’t promise anything, do you understand that?”

Bender nodded.

“I don’t think you’ll have to wait months to see her, but she won’t be making dinner this week or maybe even the next one. It’ll be a few weeks, okay?”

“Okay,” Bender nodded, visibly sad. “Aunarry?”

“Yeah B?”

“Aunsansa’s going to be okay right?” his voice was small, almost squeaky as if he were afraid to ask the question because he didn’t want to know the answer.

Arya paused and took a deep breath. She studied her nephew’s face for a long moment before speaking. “You’re nine, a big boy, and growing into a fine young man. Soon you’ll be a grown-up. So, I won’t lie to you. You’ll be able to see her soon, but Aunsansa is not going to be okay for a long time. More than just her injuries, her soul got hurt. She’s going to be sad for a long time. Soul’s don’t heal as fast as skin.”

“The Old Gods’ll take care of her,” he said softly but confidently.

“I certainly hope so, little man, I certainly hope so,” Arya agreed.

Bender sat in contemplation while his teammates left the building with victory shouts.

“Aunarry?”

“Yeah?”

“Is everything you just told me just now true?”

“I told you I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“But you didn’t tell me the whole truth.”

Arya’s eyes flicked up to Robb’s for the briefest of seconds, shocked and amused, before she smiled kindly Bender. She smoothed down his hair and poked his nose. “Bender Willam Stark, you are too smart for your own good sometimes.”

“So, I’m right!”

“Aye,” Arya sighed, “you’re right. I told you the truth but not _every_ thing.”

“Why?”

“For one, you’re still young. Technically you’re still a kid—” Arya held up her finger to silence him before Bender had a change to open his mouth in protest, “—a smart, tall kid, but still a kid. And there are somethings you are too young to know about or understand yet. In time, we’ll tell you things. But not till you are a little bit older.”

“And two?”

Arya smiled, “I can’t tell you everything because Aunsansa asked me, asked us,” Arya nodded to Robb, “not to. She’s going through a lot right now and doesn’t want everyone to know.”

Bender nodded slowly, “I think I understand. It’s like when mama was going to have a baby again, after Baylee died, but before the baby could became a baby, its spirit died. And the baby wasn’t born. Papa knew about it, and they told me about it, but they didn’t want anyone else to know about it.”

Arya looked up at Robb and glared at him.

He looked down at his hands.

Of course, she knew about Baylee – his baby girl who had only lived a few days; so tiny and so perfect. However, Robb had never told Arya or Sansa about the late-stage miscarriage. Perhaps Jeyne had told Sansa, Robb wasn’t sure. But he was sure that Arya didn’t know. She and Jey weren’t as close as Jey and Sansa, and they certainly weren’t close enough to be each other’s deep, traumatic confidants.

Robb sighed; he’d be getting an earful from his sister as soon as his son wasn’t around.

“Aunsansa told you and papa what happened but she doesn’t want me to know, at least not yet. And she doesn’t want other people to know. I can keep a secret.”

Arya pulled her nephew in for a tight hug. “I know you can B. You know enough for now.”

Bender suddenly pulled back and swung his head wildly between Arya and Robb, “Does Sandor know!? Has anyone called him? He should know.”

Robb nodded, “yes, he knows.”

“He’s Aunsansa’s best friend,” Bender continued as if his father hadn’t just answered his question. “He cares a lot about her. _And_ it’s his job to keep her safe! He’s going to be so mad at himself!”

“B! B!” Arya said, grabbing his shoulders and holding him firm. “Sandor knows!”

Bender stared wide-eyed at his aunt.

Finally, he nodded, “that’s good.”

“Do you think I’d leave your aunt alone to come to a hockey game with Aunarry?” Robb asked.

Bender turned to him, puzzled.

“No,” he said, answering his own question, “Sandor is with Aunsansa now. He’s taking care of her so I can take care of you. And Aunsansa insisted that Aunarry come to your game because she couldn’t.”

Bender took a visibly deep breath, relieved, and relaxed. “That’s good. Sandor will take good care of Aunsansa. She’s safe with him.”

Robb smiled, “Aye, that she is.”

“Do you know what Aunsansa was going to do for you after the game though?” Arya asked trying to change the subject and lighten the mood.

Bender shook his head, “No.”

“She was going to take you out to eat at any restaurant of your choice!”

“But she wouldn’t have known we were going to win!”

“She was going to do it regardless of a win or a loss. She wanted to spend time with you.”

“I understand. She’ll have to take me some other time.”

“Didn’t you just hear what your dad said?”

Bender cocked his head at Arya, “Yes…”

“Aunsansa wanted me to come to the game in her place. She _also_ wants me to take you out for her.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere!”

“But wait, do you have a car?”

Arya leaned in close, “no, but I have something better.”

Bender narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

Arya whispered, “I have Sandor’s motorcycle.”

Bender spun around to face his dad, “Oh please papa! Can I please ride the motorcycle with Aunarry? Please? Please? Please? It’s not every day that Sandor brings his motorcycle around!”

Robb shook his head, “we don’t have your helmet that Sandor gave you for Sevenmas last year with us.”

“Our heads are similar sizes,” Arya pointed out, “B can wear mine and I’ll wear Sandor’s. And we’ll go straight home so that we can get B’s helmet and be all proper and safe.”

“Yeah! It’s not _that_ far to get home from here! And Aunarry will drive _really_ carefully.”

“Yeah, I’ll drive _really_ carefully,” Arya echoed, humor glinting in her brown eyes.

Robb threw up his hands, “ _Fine!_ But when you get home you have to take out the trash like mama asked you too or Arya will have to borrow the car to take you out to dinner. Yeah?”

“I can do that!” Bender turned to Arya, “can you remind me when we get home? I’ll forget but papa will call mama in the car and tell her. If I forget mama will make sure we can’t ride the motorcycle to dinner.”

Arya laughed, “of course I’ll remind you. I’ll help you too!”

“Okay, go on you two, get out of here,” Robb said, standing and stretching.

“What about my bag?”

“Carry it to the car and I’ll take it home later tonight.”

“Aren’t you going home too?” Bender wondered.

“No, I’m going to go check on Aunsansa. Someone needs to tell her the good news of your win!”

“Okay!” Bender squeezed Robb around his stomach and dragged Arya down the hallway, without his gear bag. “Bye papa! Love you!”

“Love you too!” he called after them.

Robb pulled out his phone and quickly typed out: **You get to be the one to tell Sansa you told him as much as you did. – R**

The reply came quickly. **Eventually. He deserves to be told more than you and she wanted. I’m the fun aunt – you can’t be mad at me. He’s a good kid. Talk later. – LilWolf**

Robb pocketed his phone and picked up the heavy gear bag. He crossed the nearly empty parking lot and climbed into the car after putting the bag in the back. As he pulled out, his heart sunk with every passing second that Sandor didn’t respond to the group text. Maybe he was napping. Maybe he couldn’t answer because it would be too obvious to Sansa. Maybe they lawyers were still there. Or maybe something was really wrong. Robb pressed his foot a little more into the gas pedal.

He made it to the hospital in less time than he thought he would, but it still wasn’t fast enough for his liking. His anxiety was spiking. He had had to force himself to calm down at a stoplight; if he didn’t, he knew he was going to have a panic attack.

Now parked, Robb took deep, relaxing breaths before he crossed the parking deck and walked into the hospital. He decided to take the stairs, just like Sandor had forced him to that first day.

 _How many days ago was it now?_ Robb couldn’t remember. Too many and not enough.

Outside of the locked, double doors, Robb rang the bell for the nurse on the other side and waited as patiently as he could for someone to open up for him. Sansa’s nurse – _Serah? Selina? Sar? –_ opened the door and waved him in at the same time she held her fingers up to her lips.

“She’s only just started to calm down.”

“What happened?” he was right! Something had happened.

“Let’s just say the meeting with the lawyers was…eventful and stressful. I don’t know what your sister and Sandor are talking about now, but it’s very…emotional. Just…tread carefully, Mr. Stark. For your sake, his sake, and especially for her sake.”

Robb nodded, unable to find the words.

Sansa’s door was open enough he could push it further without it making a noise. Before he could knock, he heard Sandor howl. Robb froze in the shadow, hidden by the wall. He listened.

“I escaped him, Sandor, but he’s gotten the last laugh,” Sansa sniffled. “I’m losing my life because I took his. I don’t want that. I don’t want to live a life anymore where he has me in any sort of cage. And now, I’m really going to a cage. A real one! I don’t want to.”

“You’re not going to jail.”

“Not yet.”

Robb didn’t hear what Sandor said in response.

Sansa’s going to go to prison?

His knees felt weak and Robb braced himself against the wall. What had happened since the other day when the lawyers were here? What hadn’t Sandor told him?

“Sandor…”

Sansa’s desperation forced Robb back to the private conversation.

“I want to sleep and never wake up. I’ve wanted to for a while. For a long time. I don’t know what else to live for.”

Robb’s eyes darted back and forth as he searched the wall in front of him for answers. Sansa was suicidal? Since when? How come he hadn’t seen the signs? How come _Sandor_ hadn’t seen the signs? Sandor…

There was silence for a bit then the big guy spoke again, “Then live for keeping me happy, Sansa. It’s selfish on my part. I know. It’s probably unhealthy too for me to keep you so close but unable to pull you closer – unable pull you into my arms like I want to. But I don’t care if it destroys me. I don’t care if I never have a whole heart and I never get my dreams. I don’t care. Not if it means keeping you alive. Live because _I_ need you to live.”

“Sandor?”

Robb couldn’t help but peek around the corner. He had to see what was going on. Everything he was hearing made sense in a way that didn’t make sense.

Sandor’s head was laying on the bed. Sansa had moved herself down so that their faces were close to being level. Their hands were clasped tight around each other. Sandor’s shoulders were slumped in a way that Robb had never seen before. Sansa looked like a shell of his sister.

Sansa said something Robb didn’t catch. After a moment she spoke louder, with more vigor, “All those years ago, back when you were angry and paid to protect Joffrey, and I was so naïve, and young – Gods I was so stupid I don’t know how you tolerated me, let alone sought out a position at my brand new company years later – you always told me to look at you, to look you in the eyes.”

“I thought my scars scared you,” he mumbled.

Robb thought he had a good point; on their first introduction, Sandor’s scars had scared _him_.

Sandor continued, “and I hated that, hated you for it – I hated the physical reaction you had, written all over your face.”

“Silly Sandor,” Sansa sounded like she was smiling. “Sandor, it was never about your scars. Yes, they were shocking at first. But that was because I’d never seen burn scars before.”

“And it scared you.”

“No,” she said sharply.

It was her ‘don’t argue with me right now’ voice – Robb smiled at that. He had been on the receiving end of that voice too many times.

“The hatred for the world and the anger for everything in it that you had in your eyes, _that_ was what terrified me.”

Robb felt an odd sensation on the back of his neck and turned around. Selna was pulling a cart, getting ready to enter the room. She looked up, surprised, when he touched her shoulder with his finger to his lips. Silently, he motioned for her to step out of the room.

“Is everything alright in there?” she asked, concern glazing her eyes.

“I don’t really know,” Robb admitted, rubbing his stubbled chin.

“Should I go find out?”

Robb shook his head, “No, I don’t think so…”

“That’s not very convincing.”

“They’re talking. It’s…personal, and you were right, emotional.”

“Alright then, Mr. Stark,” Selna said skeptically, “I’ll be back in a little bit. Shout if you need someone.”

“Thanks, Selna.”

Robb stood outside the room for another moment, still trying to understand.

He had always wondered if there had ever been something more between his sister and her bodyguard. Perhaps long ago when she was off at school in King’s Landing, or even at the company before she promoted him into his position as her bodyguard. And once Jey had pointed it out to Robb, it was as clear as day: Sandor was more protective and attentive towards Sansa than any other bodyguard or hired security he had ever encountered. As Lord Stark, the parliamentary representative of the North, Robb had encountered a lot of bodyguards. Never before had he seen behavior like Sandor’s.

Was he more than just a bodyguard to her?

Robb’s head swam with the possibilities.

He needed answers.

He stepped back inside and resumed his position out of sight but within earshot.

“… I want to remember you powerful and strong. I am scared to want to hope that you’ll stay alive – even if it is just for me.”

Sansa was more than just a mark for Sandor; she _had_ to be. Robb was positive.

“Yes, I’ve wanted it all to end for a long time, I’ll not lie to you.”

Gods, he thought, Sansa! Suicidal! Do I even know my own sister?

“Sandor, what do you think has kept me going this long?”

Sandor already worked for Sansa _before_ she married Ramsey. But it was _after_ the wedding that she promoted him. Had they been having an affair for more than five years? Was that why Sansa was really leaving Ramsey? Was it because she actually wanted to be with Sandor?

Sandor certainly wanted to be with _her_.

Robb had so many questions, but he knew it would be a long time, a _very_ long time, before he could ask his sister.

“Damn it, Sandor, look at me!”

No, Robb was sure that they weren’t having an affair – at least not a physical one.

Sansa kissed Sandor’s knuckles, “You, silly. You’re the one who has kept me going this long.”

Robb didn’t know what to make of their relationship now.

“Your presence was enough. But I know your beliefs include preventing harm from befalling your mark, even if it means protecting your mark from themselves. You wouldn’t have let me do anything to myself…”

Robb knew that as well. If that was the case though, then Sansa couldn’t have been visibly suicidal, right? Sandor would have stopped her.

“… you gave me _friendship_ , you gave me _companionship_ , and you gave me _security_. You became my, my my…my person – how could I have done anything to upset the one who did all that? The one who was all that to me?”

“But now?” he croaked. “Now?”

Sandor looked so small, so scared as he pleaded with Sansa to live.

_Sansa wants to die._

Robb held his breath to keep from gasping for it. He closed his eyes for a moment and thanked the Old Gods that his parents were not alive to see how broken their daughter had become.

“And now, Sansa? You’re okay with ripping my world apart?”

Sansa didn’t say anything, then whispered something that Robb couldn’t hear.

Sandor was crying now, openly and heavily.

He wept, and Robb wanted to sob along side him.

But Sansa said, “If I do this, if I keep fighting and living, I am going to need help, Sandor. If the media hasn’t gotten ahold of this story yet, they soon will. I’ll be pestered from all sides….”

 _Gods have mercy_ , Robb had to bite his lip from exclaiming.

Every news outlet from Warm Hearth to Sunspear was going to have a field day with this story broke. Even over in Essos, Sothyros too. _Robb_ would have to field some of this media attack as well. Somehow, he knew, that his opponents and adversaries at court would try to use this to weaken his position. But never mind him. The whole damn world knew who Dr. Sansa Stark, businesswoman extraordinaire, was. She was loved…and hated.

“…I can’t do this if I don’t feel safe, if there isn’t at least one person with me who I know I can trust completely. Sandor, I want you…Sandor, will you still stand by my side – through everything and everyone that’s coming for me, like you have the past five years?”

“If it kills me, inside my chest or outside my body while protecting you. Aye, Little Bird, I’ll continue being your shadow.”

Sansa shimmied closer to him to press her forehead to his. “Then, as much as I don’t want to go on, I’ll keep living because _you_ want me to. I’ll keep using you, Sandor, as my will to live.”

Robb breathed a sigh of relief.

Had Sansa said that to _him_ , he wouldn’t believe her. Sansa was not above lying. She used it strategically and not very often; usually with good reason. But never, in all the years Robb had known Sandor or in the years he had known them together, never had he encountered an instance where his sister had lied to her bodyguard. Those two were more honest with each other than even the most perfect of marriages.

Some time had passed before Robb felt comfortable enough to walk into the room. He knocked on the door softly but neither Sansa nor Sandor raised their heads. Both looked to be on the verge of sleep, their foreheads still pressed together. Robb tiptoed to the edge of the bed and Sandor’s chair and leaned over the big guy’s shoulder to kiss his sister’s temple.

Sansa opened her eyes and blinked heavily at him, “Robby.”

“Hey there.” Robb lifted his leg to sit on the bed next to Sansa’s knee. “You look wiped out, Sansan.”

She nodded, “It was a long day.”

“What’d you do to tucker this little tyke out?” Robb teased, gently patting Sandor’s shoulder.

“You don’t want to know,” Sandor mumbled, not opening his eyes.

“No, I suppose I don’t.”

 _But I do know, and we’ll talk about it later._ Robb didn’t say that bit.

“How was the game?” Sansa’s voice was raw, like she’d been shouting.

“The Pups won the game.”

Sansa smiled, “oh good. Was it a good game?”

Sandor snorted, “he’s _nine_. How good can a game like that be?”

“You like going to the games with me.”

Sandor opened an eye and stared at her, only inches away before he rolled his eye and closed it again. Sansa smiled in satisfaction.

“Yes, it was actually a very good game. They’ll go onto the regional championship.”

“That’s wonderful.” Though Robb knew she was excited for her nephew, her voice held little enthusiasm.

“How did the meeting with the lawyers go?”

Sandor growled and Sansa refused to look Robb in the eye.

“Sansan, what’s going on?” _I know you at least think you’ll be arrested; you might as well tell me everything._

“Shit’s gonna happen and I’d really rather not have to fucking talking about it right now,” Sandor snarled.

“It’s a good thing I asked my sister and not you.”

Sandor growled again.

“Please,” Sansa begged, “don’t fight. I don’t want you to fight. I want you to like each other and not fight.”

Sansa’s eyes welled with tears. Sandor turned his head towards her more and lifted his hand to her cheek. He stroked it carefully with his thumb. He hummed low, “We’re not fighting, Little Bird.”

“I like Sandor just fine,” Robb added. “I just think that what he wants doesn’t really apply in this situation.”

“But Robby, I’m with Sandor on this one,” she whispered, “I don’t want to talk about the meeting right now.”

“Then we won’t talk about it right now. I do want to know what’s going to happen.”

“I’ll tell you at some point,” she conceded.

“Good.”

Sandor raised his eyebrow, “did Lil Wolf not come back with you?”

“She took Bender to dinner for Sansa.”

At the reminder of yet another perceived failure, Sansa scrunched her eyes and whimpered.

Robb squeezed her knee. “Hush, Sansan.”

“He’s going to hate me!”

“He’s let down a little, but he understands that you need to rest.” Robb couldn’t contain the grin, “besides, when Arya offered to take him anywhere that he wanted to eat, he perked up. And when she said she’d take him on Sandor’s bike, well, he all but forgot we exist. He had eyes only for Arya.”

“He’d better be wearing the fucking helmet,” Sandor barked. “They both had better be.”

“They are,” Robb agreed hastily, “oh they are. They both know it’s a requirement by you, me, and more importantly, Jey.”

“Good.”

“So…he’s not mad?”

“No, Sansan, he’s not mad.”

“Knock knock!” Selna said cheerfully as she came in with a wheelchair. “Doctor wants another round of imaging, Sansa.”

“You took pictures when I came in.”

“It’s been a couple of days. Think of these like follow-ups. If they’re clear, there is very little chance that you’d need more.”

“And if they’re not?” Robb asked.

“We’ll have a better idea of what is going on inside and how to treat it.”

“Come on,” Sandor said, sitting up, “let’s make our way with Selna.”

“You stay here, Sandor, these tests will take longer.” Selna said almost regretfully.

“No, he has to come with me!” Sansa hadn’t raised her head yet. Her hand was clamped around Sandor’s still. “You let him come last time!”

“I know, but these tests are different. He needs to stay here.”

“No!”

“I wish I could say otherwise.”

“I won’t go if he doesn’t come!”

“Sansa don’t be silly,” Sandor replied, brushing her hair back from her face, “go get the tests done and in no time, you’ll be back here. We’ll sit and eat dinner and have a nice evening.”

“Sandor, I’m scared,” she whimpered, barely audible.

“We’ve made sure there are only women in the room with you,” Selna spoke up. “There is one man, the radiologist, who has to be involved but he will be in a separate room the whole time. You won’t even know he’s there. And you won’t ever see him or hear him.”

“Fight me if you like, Little Bird,” Sandor replied standing, his legs pushing the chair away from the bed, “either way, I’ll just pick you up and force you into the wheelchair.”

Selna gasped at him and glared daggers, ready to chastise him, but Sansa replied,

“Help me sit up then. I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

Sandor took a firm grasp on Sansa’s wrist and started to pull her up as his other arm slid behind her back and supported her. Even after she was upright and leaning forwards over her thighs, breathing heavily, he left his hand on her back.

“All right?”

Sansa shook her head, “I need a second.”

“That’s okay,” Sandor replied, gently rubbing her wrist, “we’ll pull your legs over the edge when you’re ready.”

“Why do I feel weaker now than I did earlier?”

“It’s been a stressful day; it’s taken a lot out of you.”

“I’m glad that she brought a wheelchair,” Sansa breathing heavily, “I don’t think I could walk – even if you were allowed to come with me.”

“What if Robb orders us a pizza for when you get back?” Sandor asked. “It’s better than this hospital food.”

“I can’t argue with you there,” Selna replied happily. “As long as you’re eating, you can eat whatever you want.”

“That’ll build up your strength some.”

“The Wintertown Wolves are playing tonight. We can all watch on TV,” Robb suggested.

Sansa looked up at her brother, “who are they playing?”

“The Drearfort Stoneheads.”

Sansa’s head snapped to Selna, “how long is this going to take?”

“No more than two hours.”

“When does the game start, Robby?”

Robb glanced at his wristwatch, “just shy of two and a half hours.”

“Get me to that chair, Sandor.”

“Are you ready?”

“I’m not missing that fucking game!” Sansa cried out.

Robb’s eyes went wide. He’d never heard his sister use language so loosely before.

Sandor just chuckled, “if you say so, love.”

He let go of her wrist and sat it gently on her thigh. He waited a second before pulling her legs, until Sansa nodded. She grimaced at the movement. Sandor stepped closer as she leaned towards him, resting her cheek on the front of his shoulder.

“All right, Little Bird?”

She nodded but didn’t pull away.

“You’re sweating,” Robb observed. He pulled back the hair that had fallen and stuck to Sansa’s forehead.

“It’s a lot of effort to move,” she mumbled. “How many broken ribs?”

“Four,” Selna answered.

“And the bruises. And the stitches.”

“Would you like me to braid your hair?” Robb asked.

“Don’t have the…time,” Sansa grunted as she shifted her bottom on the bed, “the game…we have to make it back in time for the game.”

“You really don’t like these Drearfort Stoneheads, do you?” Selna said, amused.

Sandor and Robb laughed.

“You can say that again,” Sandor said.

“We grew up watching the Wolves,” Robb explained.

“But Sansa went to school near the Drearfort. There are not…” Sandor glanced down at Sansa, choosing his words, “there are few happy memories from that time.”

“The only two teams she hates more than the Stoneheads are the Casterly Rock Lions and the King’s Landing Crowns.”

“Seeing the Wolves whip their asses is very cathartic for Sansa,” Sandor grinned. “We’ve got a good team this year.”

“The fucking Stoneheads don’t stand a chance,” Sansa muttered. “Sandor?”

“Hmm?”

“Put me in the chair.”

“Are your legs feeling alright?” Selna wondered, stepping forwards.

“I think they’re fine. But I don’t have time to crawl into the chair. I don’t have time to rest. I want to get these tests over with. And I want to have a pineapple and ham pizza and a hockey game waiting for me when I get back.”

Robb groaned, “Pineapple, really? You still like that?”

Sansa turned her head to glare, “I dare you to fight me on this.”

“But pineapple?”

Sandor slipped his arms under Sansa’s knees and lifted her easily from the bed.

“I’ll stick my bodyguard on you,” she grunted, her face paling at the jostling that came from being moved, “and he’s got at least fifty pounds of pure muscle and six inches on you. Don’t argue with me on this, Robbert Stark. I want pineapple. And I want artichoke hearts. And the big thick crust that is fluffy inside.”

Sandor set Sansa in the chair, but he didn’t let go right away.

Sansa nodded to him, “I’m okay.”

“Then pineapple, artichoke, ham, and fluffy crust is exactly what you’ll get,” Robb quickly agreed.

Sandor tried to stand up, but Sansa had a vice grip on his hand. Totally at ease, Sandor squatted down next to Sansa’s wheelchair. “You’ll be fine.”

She nodded, unconvinced.

“You will be,” Sandor insisted, “I think Selna is way scarier than I am. If someone wanted to approach you, they’d have to go through her. She knows your limits like I do. She’ll take care of you.”

“You’ll be here when I get back, right?”

“Absolutely,” Sandor insisted. “Unless I’m downstairs getting your pizza.”

“Make Robby get it, since he’s so disgusted by it.”

There was a glint in her eye, as she glanced sideways at Robb; a smile playing on her lips.

“Aye, I’ll make Robb get it for you.”

“Are you ready Sansa?” Selna asked.

Sansa closed her eyes as Sandor stood. He gave her a quick peck on the forehead and whispered something. Selna turned her towards the door and soon they disappeared. Silence ensued.

“How much did you hear?” Sandor finally asked as he turned to straighten the sheets on the bed.

“Hear what?”

“Don’t play daft,” Sandor grunted. “I know you were listening for a bit. Hiding just around the corner.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you knew.”

“How much?”

“I’m not sure how much I want to admit to hearing.”

“Spit it out, Robb.”

Robb put his hands on his hips and paced the room for a minute. Finally, he found his words, “Which part Sandor? Which part!? The part where my sister is going to get arrested? Or the part where you love my sister?”

Sandor froze from adjusting the pillows. When he spoke, his voice was low and raspy, “So you do know.”

“Yeah, I’ve suspected you have for a while. Thank my wife for putting you onto the scent. I just, I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“I’m not leaving her.”

“No, I wouldn’t want you to do that. Especially not now. That would do more damage than it would help her.”

“Am I hurting her, by loving her?” Sandor whispered. He sounded as if he wanted to know the answer, as if he didn’t have the answer.

Robb sighed, “no, you’re not. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. You’re the best person for the job and she trusts you the most; more than anyone else in the world. Perhaps that’s why you’re the best person for the job: because you love her. You value her. You cherish her. You place her above all others and would do anything for her.”

Sandor didn’t reply. There was nothing to dispute.

“How long, Sandor? How long have you loved her?”

“Years,” he said. “Maybe longer. Maybe I’ve always kind of loved her, in a way.”

“Have you told her?”

Sandor shook his head, “no. She doesn’t know.”

Robb scoffed, “I highly doubt that.”

“I’m not sure she would have kept me around if she knew, or would have hired me, let alone promoted me.”

Robb snorted, “She knows, trust me, she knows. She may not _know_ she knows, but she knows. On some level, she knows.”

“Has she said something to you?”

“Gods no!” Robb laughed.

“Then how do you know?”

“Did you not hear anything she said to you just now?” Robb took a steadying breath. “I’m going to gloss over the fact that my sister is suicidal – for the time being that is, because I can’t fathom…I just…I don’t know how to process that right now – and I’m going to focus on what she said about why she’s still alive. And what that reason is.”

“Me.”

“Yeah, you.” Robb sat down in the armchair. “Now I have two theories. Either knowing that someone close to her still loves her – I’m going to not pretend that I’m not a little hurt by that because I would hope she knows that I love her, that Arya loves her, that we all love her, but that’s beside the point – has been enough to keep her going.”

“What’s your other theory?”

“That theory one applies while,” Robb watched Sandor closely, gauging his reaction, “at the same time, she loves you too.”

Sandor fumbled with his phone, nearly dropping it, as he tried to plug it in. He exclaimed, after catching his phone, “What?”

“She loves you too, Sandor.”

“Has she said anything?”

“No, but then again, since her time involving the Lannister’s and what she went through in the Vale, we haven’t been as close as we were when we were young. We don’t share things like we used to.”

“I don’t think she shares anything with anyone – not since she married Ramsey,” Sandor mumbled.

Robb smiled. The bodyguard’s eyebrows were pulled together and he worried his lip as he thought about the possibility that Sansa loved him in return.

“And yet, you know everything about her,” Robb replied. “You are her best friend. You are her bodyguard. She tells you more than she tells anyone else. Did you not have a clue about her feelings?”

“Nothing more than friendship.”

“There’s been no affair between the two of you?”

“Fuck no!” Sandor exclaimed. “Robb, she’s my boss and she is, well was, married!”

“I had to ask Sandor!” Robb shot back.

“Why?”

“I keep asking myself why Ramsey reacted the way he did.”

Sandor rounded on Robb; his face suddenly dark. “Sansa did nothing wrong! It’s not her fucking fault! She is not to blame for that cunt’s actions!”

“I don’t mean to say it is!”

“It sure as hell is starting to sound like it.”

“All I’m saying, is that if you and Sansa did have an affair, Ramsey might have some justification for his actions, in his own head.”

“Ramsey was a fucking psycho from the start! Your sister regretted the marriage immediately. When she promoted me, weeks after the wedding, she was already avoiding going home. But she couldn’t get out of it! He scared her from the beginning. If we had an affair, which we most definitely have not, it _still_ would not be Sansa’s fault for anything Ramsey did to her!”

“I know!” Robb sighed, “did you ever want to though?”

Sandor observed Robb carefully. “I don’t know if I should answer that. You are her older brother.”

“That’s exactly why you should answer me.”

“I won’t lie, then,” Sandor said slowly, “I’m attracted to Sansa. She is an incredible woman. She’s one of the smartest people I have ever met. She is ruthless in competition and savvy in business and she is so incredibly kindhearted. And on top of all of that? She’s beautiful. She’s tall and fit and curvy and absolutely perfect.”

“And given the opportunity…?”

“Fuck, I don’t know Robb!” Sandor cried out. “Never once have I believed that there was an inkling of a chance, so I’ve never considered what I’d do if the possibility arose!”

“I wish she could have married you, instead of him,” Robb admitted. “At least then she’d be taken care of, and respected. Instead of bruised and battered.”

“Yeah, well, most people would have been better than him. But I doubt she’ll be looking at men in that way again anytime soon.”

“Why? With running the risk of sounding terribly cliché, she’s a woman, she has needs.”

“And there are ways for women to satisfy those needs without men,” Sandor replied. “But Sansa’s…terrified of men at the moment.”

“Really?” Robb hadn’t noticed that at all.

“I think you and I are exceptions to the rule. You should have seen the way she reacted to the male paramedics at the house. Or the male doctors and nurses that she _saw_ in the hallway – they weren’t even coming close to her or treating her in any way, and yet they still panicked her. That’s why Selna made sure to tell Sansa there wouldn’t be any men in the room with her for these tests. I mean,” Sandor scratched his beard, “she didn’t negatively react to the lawyers today, but she wasn’t exactly warm to them either.”

“I guess you’ll be sticking around then.”

“As long as she’ll keep me.”

“Good,” Robb nodded, “That’s good. And the lawyers?”

Sandor sighed. He sat and slouched in the chair. “You’re going to like the news less than… well less than me having a thing for your sister.”

“Just say it then.”

“The D.A. is pressing charges for murder against Sansa.”

“Come again?”

“They’re arresting Sansa.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“They’re arresting my sister?”

“Yes.”

“Sandor, please tell me you’re joking and pulling the cruelest prank, all because I pressed you about your feelings towards my sister.”

“I wish I was. I don’t know when they’ll come to process her, but it’s happening.”

“It was self-defense!”

“I know,” Sandor agreed. “The lawyers say we have a good case.”

“What can I do?”

“I don’t think there is anything for us to do.”

“I need to do _something_ Sandor.”

“Well don’t politically interfere, that would only give fuel to the prosecution,” Sandor advised.

“I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do anything to make this harder on Sansa than it already is.”

“Any move you want to make, call the lawyers first. Ask them before you do anything. Run any ideas through them. This has to be as above board as we can make it, considering how connected Sansa is. You’re political; Arya’s a top Gold Dragon military trainer; Bran is a spy; and Jon is in the Watch. Plus, she is a rich, powerful businesswoman. After the calamity that was the Lannister’s, any crime involving the business community comes under incredible scrutiny. They’re going to be looking at her in every direction possible.”

“I get it. We’re all being watched and any move we make will affect Sansa.”

Sandor didn’t reply right away.

Robb looked up in the silence. “Sandor?”

“There is one thing you might be able to do.”

“Name it.”

“You have a PR rep on your staff, right?”

“Yes. I have three actually.”

“Sansa’s going to need someone to be the face of this for her.”

“The media is going to have a field day.”

“They’re going to be all over her.”

“Are you beefing up security at the Broken Tower?”

“Why would I do that?” Sandor wondered.

“That’s Sansa’s company. People of all walks of life are going to try and get inside to get some sort of scoop to sell to a news outlet.”

“Really?”

“It happens all the time with my private offices.”

Sandor pulled out his phone and quickly typed something. Two minutes later he sat it on the bed, “there. I just sent an email to Edd. He’ll rearrange the schedules tonight and start the extra security tomorrow.”

“I’ll call my team later and get Jenny to coordinate with you and Ms. Poole, and I’ll have Prestan to help on it as needed. Keira will have to stay dedicated to me, with the new legislative session looming in a few weeks.”

“Anything will help,” Sandor said sincerely.

“When she’s released from the hospital Sandor, I want Sansa to come and stay with me,” Robb said slowly. “We have enough room for both you and her, but…”

“Your house is already dogged regularly by the media and with this storm that’s brewing, it will be too much for Sansa and your family,” Sandor finished, understanding.

Robb rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair. Sansa had the true Tully hair color; Robb had gotten a darker version, the Tully red dyed darker by the Stark black. But as kids, the two of them were nearly identical, despite the age difference.

“Yeah, I don’t think she’d have the haven I want her to have at my place. And there is Bender and his friends prancing around after school. Every so often Jey has her groups around. I want to take care of my sister, but I don’t think I can do any good for her there.” Robb groaned and leaned back in the chair, “we need to find a safe place, a safe house, for her. And soon. That way we can get security beefed around it. If you have any grand ideas, I’d love to hear it.”

“Actually,” Sandor said slowly, cautiously, “I do have a place in mind.”

“Really? That fast?”

“She could move in today, if she needed to.”

“Is it secure?”

“Not to the extent it needs to be,” Sandor said but continued before Robb could interrupt him, “but it’s secluded enough that she could stay there while improvements are happening.”

“Where is it?”

“About 25 minutes outside of Winterfell proper. And it’s not easy to get to.”

“A house?”

“Yeah. It’s on a large property that is mostly woods and mountain.”

“Woods are hard to secure.”

“It’s big enough and dense enough I would love to see paparazzi tramp through their with their cameras.”

“You’d be surprised at what people would do for a photo.”

“It wouldn’t be impossible to set up cameras and fencing around enough of the perimeter.”

“Do you trust the owner?”

“I do. More importantly, Sansa does too.”

“Oh, she knows them?”

“You do too.”

“Who?”

“Me.”

“You?”

“Yeah, I have a house that hardly gets used,” Sandor said. “Master suite, three bedrooms, one and a half bath, office with a pullout couch, and a detached garage. Sansa obviously will take the master; I’ll stay in the room next door; and Arya can stay in the bedroom downstairs. The third bedroom should be used by rotating security. The couch is comfy or there is the pullout, you can stay too when you want to. It wouldn’t be hard to put a gate around the main property. The best part is that no one, aside from me, Tormund – who’s redeployed, and now you, know about it.”

“Not even Sansa?”

“She knows I have a place outside of town. She’s never been.”

“And you’re okay with us taking over your house?”

“I don’t see a better option, Robb,” Sandor replied. “It’s not like money is an issue for her, but it won’t cost her anything other than installing security.”

“You won’t want anything in return?”

“No. My salary more than covers the mortgage. Besides, I’d be happy just have it used.”

“I meant, non-monetary compensation…” Robb muttered.

Sandor glared, “do you really think that of me?”

“No!” Robb said without hesitating. But then he did, pausing to find his words, “it’s just… Sandor, she’s my _sister_. Can you really blame me?”

“No, I have a sister too.”

“I know we live in progressive modern times and all. And I know that I have no say in who my sister dates or loves or consorts with, but I can still _try_ to protect her, right? She’s family. I mean, I have to. Especially now…”

“I get it,” Sandor replied, visibly uncomfortable.

“I’ll get off my horse now. I’ve said my peace.”

“Robb?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t say anything to Sansa, please.” Sandor’s voice was soft, strained, fearful. “I don’t want…I don’t want things to change between us. Not yet, at least. She’s so fragile right now. I can’t…I don’t know what this, this, this…this _change_ would do to her. I just want her to be all right.”

“You need to tell her someday soon. But I won’t say anything, you have my word.”

“Thank you.”

“But Sandor?”

“Hmm?”

“What you’ve been doing with her, the way you’ve been treating her and taking care of her since you found her, it’s working. It’s helping. You’re helping.”

“You think so? I don’t know what is too much and what is not enough.”

“Keep on doing what you’re doing. Like this morning, she was nearly unresponsive until you returned. You’re her beacon.”

Sandor glanced at his watch, “I won’t be if I don’t get her pizza ordered. It’s been almost an hour.”

“You call it in. I’m sure you know what she likes more precisely than I do. I’ll go wait for it in the lobby.”

“I can do that.”

“I need to stretch my legs,” Robb said, standing. “Besides, you need to be here when she gets back. You promised.”

“Aye, that I did.”

Robb turned to leave and thought again, turning back, “Sandor?”

“Yeah?” Sandor looked up from looking for the phone number in his browser.

“Please, for the love of the Old Gods and the New, order a large something that doesn’t have pineapple _or_ artichoke hearts on it.”

“Oh, no worries there,” Sandor grinned. “I may love your sister, Robb, but that doesn’t me I agree with or share her very strange food choices.”

“Good, good. You can stay for now.”

Robb laughed as Sandor rolled his eyes and strolled out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I would post this 100 hits ago...but life happens, ya know? Like school is kicking my ass. (as a result I am writing all of the essays that I can about ASOIAF. tonight I will be writing one comparing Sandor and the knight from the Wife of Bath by Chaucer. Tonight I will also be writing a comparison between Lysa and Lyanna and Gudrun from The Saga of the People of Laxardal.)
> 
> Thanks for the love and support (and comments!).


	13. Chapter 13: The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa comes back from imaging. Arya is a slut. Sandor and Robb battle for the better French braid. 3940 words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on _Innocence_ : Robb and Sandor have a heart to heart about the big man's feelings towards the Lord's sister. Sansa orders a pizza with pineapple and artichoke hearts before getting more imaging done. 8328 Words. TW at start of chapter.

When Sandor looked up from his phone, Sansa was being pushed back into her room. But not in the wheelchair she had left from. She was on a small bed, a gurney. She was unconscious, her head flopped to one side, mouth slightly parted, breathing deeply. Her wrists were restrained to the collapsible sides.

“What happened?” Sandor hissed at the attendant as he jumped to his feet.

“Just a panic attack, Mr. Clegane,” she replied softly, comfortingly. “We had to sedate her in order for her to remain still enough for the imaging. She should be coming to very shortly. We figured it’d be better for her to wake up here, where she is somewhat familiar with the surroundings – and where you are.”

Sandor’s chest still clenched but swallowed hard, trying to breathe and remember that sometimes things like that were necessary…and that they didn’t know about Sansa’s mental condition at the moment. He should tell them. Sansa needed professional help. Instead, he just nodded, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Selna told me you two are close and that you are one of the few people Ms. Stark unconditionally trusts. When I wanted to call for another attendant to help me, she gave me the impression that you could help me transfer her to the bed. And now I see why. You could do it all by yourself.”

Sandor nodded. He stood beside the bed and rubbed his hand along Sansa’s arm. Her skin was so soft, so smooth, in between the cuts and bandages. He asked, “Why the restraints?”

“We were able to slip a gas mask over her head, but that only irritated her more. Though, it did make her movements languished and it distracted her. We were then able to slip her into restrains to keep her, and our staff safe, while we sedated her. We prefer not sticking needles in patients when they’re thrashing about.”

“Can you remove them now?” he wondered, “Or will she still need them?”

“Yes, we can get rid of them.” The attendant slid Sansa’s tiny wrists out of the fur-lined cuffs.

She dropped the side of the bed, then minded the IV line while Sandor bent over and lifted her effortlessly. He cradled her and shuffled sideways. He laid her against the pillows on the bed and adjusted her to the position that was most comfortable to her before the imaging. The attendant rehung the IV bag and connected a few monitors to her chest and finger.

Sandor watched her with a critical eye.

“A precaution while she’s still asleep,” she murmured to Sandor as she worked, reading his mind. “Just ring the bell and a nurse will come disconnect her when she wakes.”

“Thank you.”

“Take care, Mr. Clegane.”

Sandor nodded and she left the room, pushing the bed in front of her.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. He tried sitting but felt to restless. It felt wrong to assume and sit on the bed with her. Finally, he pulled over the rolling stool, sat, and placed his elbows on the bed. He rolled the stool forwards and backwards in his jitters. He took Sansa’s hand in his and rubbed her wrist absently.

It was not long before Sansa started moaning, twisting her head side to side. A soft alarm started beeping. A nurse appeared and silenced the machine. She checked Sansa’s vitals before patting Sandor on the shoulder.

“Everything’s fine – you can wipe that terrified look off of your face,” she said kindly. “Sansa is just waking.”

Sandor nodded, but never took his eyes off of Sansa. He could see her cheek bones more prominently than before. Her eye sockets looked hallow, gaunt. She was turning into the shell of the woman she was. She needed to eat more. She needed to go outside and feel the sun and get fresh air. She needed this nightmare, that was only starting to begin to end, to end.

Robb appeared, backing into the room and carrying three large pizza boxes.

“Wow!” he exclaimed.

Sandor shushed him.

“Sorry,” Robb replied softly. “That took forever to get here!”

“Her favorite place is on the other side of town,” Sandor replied by way of explanation.

“And you decided that was the best place to order it from?”

“It’s her favorite.”

“Yeah, well,” Robb grinned, “you could have warned me.”

“Are you twoooo….”

Sandor’s head snapped around to stare at Sansa. She hadn’t opened her eyes, but she was licking her lips. She tried to swallow but couldn’t.

“Here, suck.” Sandor said, picking up the water cup from the side table. He put the straw to her lips and held the water cup steady.

Sansa didn’t move right away.

“It’s only water.”

Sansa sucked hesitantly at first. When the cool liquid began to quench her thirst, she drank greedily and nodded when she was done. The cup was empty.

“Aaare you twoo,” she tried again, “just go-ing to talk aaabout my piiiiiiza and not,” she took a breath, trying to clear her speech that was still slurred by the sedative, “and not give me any?”

Robb laughed, “It _literally_ just got here SanSan.”

“What time is it?”

Sandor smiled. She only had one thing on her mind. He glanced at his watch, “You have nineteen minutes, to be precise, before the game starts.”

“Why is it hard to move? Did I fall asleep?”

“You had to be sedated,” Sandor replied. “You had troubles keeping still for the images.”

She didn’t need to know about the restraints. Robb didn’t either though he eyed Sandor, probably silently asking him what the bodyguard wasn’t saying out loud.

Sandor pointedly ignored him.

“Sandor,” she whispered, “can you help me sit up?”

“Of course, Little Bird.”

Sandor stood. He slid a hand behind her back and took her hand. He pulled her up with a minimal grimace from her.

“Let me rest,” she whispered, when she was upright.

Sandor paused, waiting.

“Don’t push yourself, Sansan,” Robb implored her.

“I have to watch,” she took a breath, “I have to watch the game.”

Sansa started to open her eyes. The second she did, her face turned green. She turned away from Sandor and vomited on the blankets covering her; half on her leg and half on the bed next to her.

Sandor let go of her hand long enough to slam his thumb into the call button for the nurse. Sansa reached around blindly for his hand and latched on when she found it.

Robb was at her side pulling her hair back as she threw up again.

Sansa sat back up. Her eyes were closed tight; her lips pushed together tightly. She was so pale. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead and the back of her neck.

Just as a nurse ran into the room, Sansa puked for a third time.

The nurse grabbed a kidney bean shaped, muted pink dish and held it under Sansa’s chin as she retched again. Nothing came out this time, but it didn’t stop her body from trying.

Sansa was shaking and crying now, her grip on Sandor’s hand unbelievably tight. She groaned as her abdominal muscles clenched again and she gagged. Heavy tears leaked out from behind her closed eyes.

“What brought this on?” the nurse asked kindly, handing Robb a towel with one hand. The other still held the dish under Sansa’s chin.

Sansa pursed her lips, refusing to say anything. Sandor understood that as fear of vomiting more than an unwillingness to answer.

Robb dabbed at her forehead and neck.

The nurse checked the monitors and Sansa’s IV drip. “Everything seems normal. A little elevated but that is to be expected after retching a few times.”

“She opened her eyes and immediately puked,” Sandor answered for her. “She asked to sit up and then tried to open her eyes.”

“Then let’s see if we can clear this up,” a doctor said, walking into the room.

She pulled on rubber gloves as she spoke, “I’m Doctor Tyde, the physician on call. Your regular doctor is tending to an emergency.”

Dr. Tyde came to stand on the puke side of the bed. She gently pushed Sansa’s shoulder to force her to lay back. Sandor eased her back and removed his hand but kept it on her shoulder. At the same time, the nurse raised the bed to more of a sitting position.

“Sansa, can you open your eyes please?” Dr. Tyde asked.

Sansa shook her head, no.

“I know it’s hard,” she replied sympathetically. “But it will help us figure out what’s going on. Open your eyes, just for a moment.”

Sansa tried.

Thankfully, the nurse was ready with the dish again as Sansa’s stomach upheaved yet again. This time green bile didn’t make it to the dish. It dribbled down her chin. She moaned unhappily. Sandor rubbed his hand along her arm, giving her hand a soothing squeeze. The nurse wiped her chin. Robb smoothed her hair.

“Ah, I see what is going on,” Dr. Tyde murmured.

“And that is?” Robb asked.

“Nothing to fear, Sansa and family, this is just a case of vertigo,” the doctor explained in a soft, king voice. “It is not an uncommon result after sedation, though you do seem to have a particularly violent reaction. Most patients don’t actually throw-up, they just feel nauseous.”

“This will pass?” Robb wondered.

The doctor nodded, “very soon. We’ll give her some anti-nausea medication to help it along.”

The nurse was already sliding a syringe into Sansa’s IV line.

“Are you feeling anything else?” the doctor asked Sansa.

She replied with, “it hurts,” before gagging and spitting into the dish.

“Your ribs?” she guessed, glancing at Sansa’s chart.

Sansa nodded.

“That’s to be expected,” the doctor nodded sympathetically. “We’ll give you something for that too.”

Sansa shook her head, squeezing Sandor’s hand. She squeezed her eyes and fright washed over her face for a moment.

Sandor gave her a comforting nod, though she didn’t see, and an extra squeeze of his hand. He understood.

“Nothing to help her sleep, or that will put her to sleep.” Sandor insisted.

Robb looked at him sharply and the doctor raised her eyebrow.

Sandor cleared his throat and found the easiest explanation that wasn’t a lie. “We’re about to watch a hockey game. Sansa has been looking forward to it.”

“A light anti-inflammatory and pain reducer then,” Dr. Tyde suggested.

“Thank you,” Sandor replied.

“I’ll come back and check on you at half time, then?” the doctor smiled before leaving the room, tossing her gloves in the trash.

“Can you get out of bed, Sansa?” the nurse asked. “We need to change your sheets now.”

Sansa shook her head.

“Come here,” Sandor said without thinking.

He slid his arms around her back and under her knees. With no effort, Sandor lifted Sansa against his chest and sat back down on the rolling stool. She only grimaced a little as he settled Sansa on his lap, holding her securely.

The nurse grinned but Robb rolled his eyes.

“That’s one way of doing it!” the nurse laughed as she began pulling the sheets off the bed. Another attendant came in and traded the nurse the soiled linens for a stack of clean, folded ones.

“Robby,” Sansa croaked, turning her head slightly away from Sandor’s chest, peeking with one eye.

“Yeah?” Robb said coming around the bed.

“The TV.”

Sandor’s chest rumbled with laughter. “Yeah, Robb, the TV. It’s almost game time!”

“You can’t even look at the TV right now,” Robb mumbled turning around and reaching for the remote control.

“Sandor, the dish.”

Sandor sat Sansa’s thighs on his and pulled his arm out to reach to the table and grab the dish. He placed it in her hands, and she pulled it to her chin.

“Still feeling sick?” he asked.

“No,” Sansa said, “I want to open my eyes. But I don’t want to be sick on you.”

“I do appreciate that,” he said earnestly.

“There, that should do it,” the nurse said once the bed was remade. “Just call us if you need anything else, Sansa. Enjoy your game.”

“Thank you,” she replied weakly.

“Oh, look!” Robb announced, “they haven’t even announced starting line-ups. We’ve got plenty of time.”

Sandor looked down and watched as Sansa opened one eye slowly, then the other.

“Robby, stop moving,” she demanded.

Sandor raised an eyebrow. Robb was standing with his back to them, at the foot of the bed, remote in hand, watching the team’s warm-up. He glanced over his shoulder.

“Sansan, I’m not moving.”

“Are you Sandor?”

“No.”

“Then the whole world is.”

“Dizzy?” Robb asked, turning around.

Sansa nodded, closing her eyes. “I have to pee too.”

Robb sat the remote down on the table, “All right then, come on.”

“What are you doing?” she wondered as Robb took her hand.

“Helping you to the bathroom.”

“Sandor can do that.”

“No, he bloody well cannot.”

Sandor looked away from Sansa to avoid having to explain the blush he felt creeping along his neck.

“Then call a nurse.”

“I can help you Sansa.”

“You’re my _brother_.”

“And Sandor is your bodyguard. One is way, _way_ more appropriate than the other for this situation.”

“You’re right, the nurse is the right person.”

“Just let me help you Sansa!”

“It’s just weird Robby!”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

“When we were kids!”

“I’ve seen you naked since then. You’ve seen me naked. We’ve both known for a long time that we have different parts. It’s whatever.”

“This is different!”

“Sansa, we’ll call a nurse if you want,” Sandor stated diplomatically, “but that will take a minute. They game will have started by the time someone gets here to help. Robb won’t let me help you—”

“Why!”

“Because!” Robb exclaimed.

Sandor continued, “so just accept his help, Little Bird. It’ll go much faster this way.”

“I can’t believe you’re siding with him,” she huffed, trying to sit up. Sandor helped and lowered his knee to place her feet on the ground. Robb took her other hand and pulled her to her feet. She nearly fell until Sandor steadied her with his hands on her hips.

Robb stepped closer.

Sansa sagged heavily into Robb’s arms.

“You ready?” he wondered.

“No, I feel like I just got off of a teacup ride. But let’s go or I’m going make another kind of mess on the floor.”

Robb laughed and said, “we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” and slipped his hand to her elbow and escorted her to the bathroom, taking most of her weight.

“I’m so embarrassed,” Sandor heard Sansa say through the crack in the door.

He stood and got a plate of pizza for Sansa and one for him as well.

“Why?”

“Gods, do you really have to pull down my pants for me, Robby?”

“Can you bend over to do it yourself, without falling on your head?”

Silence was Sansa’s reply.

“Thought so,” Robb gloated. Then, “there, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I’m sitting, now turn around.”

“Fine, happy?”

“Yes,” Sansa said, peeing. “I’m embarrassed because I puked in front of you guys.”

“I’ve seen you a lot grosser than a bit of puke. I also have a kid. That sort of thing doesn’t really phase me anymore.”

“Still.”

“Have you never puked in front of Sandor?”

Silence.

“I can’t remember the last time I was sick enough to vomit,” she admitted.

“Well I’m sure he won’t think less of you for it. Besides,” Robb pointed out, “the man has been to war. He’s seen more than either of us. A bit of vomit probably doesn’t faze the man.”

“Okay, help me stand…” Sansa’s voice changed. Sandor could nearly hear the blush flushing her cheeks. “…and help me pull up my sweats.”

A moment later the toilet flushed, the water at the sink tuned on, ran for a moment, and turned off, and then the door opened.

Sandor stood and took Sansa’s free arm. Together, Robb and Sandor walked her back to the bed. They lifted her up and she sunk into the pillows, relieved.

“Just missed the line-up,” Sandor told her as he slid the table up to her.

“Did the puck drop?” Sansa squinted at the TV. She wasn’t quite as pale before.

“Any minute.”

Sansa nodded, “Gives you time to come sit with me.”

Sandor smiled and crossed to the other side of the bed. He kicked off his shoes and sat down next to Sansa. Without her having to ask, Sandor pulled her into his side. She reached for the pizza while her eyes were glued to the TV. She missed the plate. Sandor passed her the first slice.

Robb settled in the chair next to the bed and turned up the TV. Minutes after the game had started and Sansa was already eagerly shouting at the television, Robb and Sandor’s phones buzzed and dinged simultaneously.

**Bet you wouldn’t guess where we are! – LilWolf**

“Who’s that?” Sansa asked absently.

“Your sister,” Sandor replied.

“How’s dinner going?”

**Where? – R**

“I’m about to find…” Sandor’s voice trailed off as he and Robb received the photo at the same time. “Fucking hells.”

“What?” Sansa said, turning her attention away from the TV just long enough to glance down at Sandor’s phone. He held it up for her. Sansa’s eyes widened. She grabbed the phone and pulled it closer to her face to examine it better. “That fucking bitch! I’m not going to be his favorite aunt any longer!”

Arya had sent a selfie of her and Bender, only a few rows up from the ice, at the Wintertown Wolves’ home arena. Bender was grinning ear to ear and held a platter with hot dogs on it. Arya was smirking at the camera.

“She knows _exactly_ what she’s doing!” Sansa lamented and thrust Sandor’s phone back in his hand. She huffed, turning back to the TV, muttering, “slut.”

**Someone’s not happy with you _._ – R**

**So? I’m someone’s favorite person right now! – LilWolf**

**There were a few choice names for you. – R**

**Get her a new jersey to appease her. – Sandor**

**And for the love of the Old Gods, remind Bender that Sansa still loves him. - Sandor**

**B is telling me to put my phone away. Bye losers! – LilWolf**

“I hate her so much,” Sansa muttered when Sandor sat his phone on the table.

“We’ll go to a game soon,” Sandor promised. “We’ll even take Bender and get better seats.”

“What the fuck!” Sansa suddenly shouted at the TV, forgetting his promise. “Come on Ref! What the hell! That was legal checking! Psht! Two minutes for that?!”

Sandor chuckled and munched on his own pizza.

It was a narrow win, but in the end, the Wolves were able to squeeze out a 5-4 lead. Sansa was elated, though starting to drag. She complained when Sandor eased out of the bed to use the toilet himself. Robb cleared away the plates and sat in Sandor’s spot. From his backpack he pulled out a hairbrush.

“Let me braid your hair before I go home for the night.”

Sansa nodded approvingly. Sandor pulled her to a betting sitting position for the task. Robb began brushing Sansa’s hair, causing her to nearly purr.

She cracked an eye at him, “You should watch closely, Sandor: to learn.”

Sandor raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think that I don’t already know how?”

The other eye opened.

“Do you mean to tell me that I’ve been braiding my own hair for five years, when in fact I could have been getting you to do it for me!”

“I don’t believe you,” Robb said to Sandor, starting to twist Sansa’s hair.

“I have a sister. I have nieces. You’d be surprised at the number of things I do know how to do.”

“With hands of _that_ size!” Sansa exclaimed.

“Are you calling my fingers fat?” Sandor teased.

Sansa didn’t hear it in his voice, “No! Only that your hands are huge and don’t seem very nimble!”

“My large hands can handle a lot. My fingers are quite deft.”

Robb glared at Sandor from behind Sansa but didn’t say anything.

Sansa completely missed the implied innuendo. “You’ll have to show me tomorrow, Sandor.”

“Then we can rub it in your brother’s face that I’m better at it than he is.”

“Deal,” Robb declared, tying off Sansa’s hair and thrusting his hand out.

Sandor shook it fiercely.

Sansa rolled her eyes.

“I should be going,” Robb finally said after cleaning up the trash from their pizza. “Jey is going to need help calming B down tonight.”

“Make that bitch do all the work,” Sansa muttered, still bitter. “She wound him up, she can make him settle down.”

“Do you really want to allow for her to add yet another thing to the Arya Column of ‘Who’s a Better Aunt?’”

“No, of course not.”

“Then I’d best be going.”

“Good Night, Robby,” Sansa said laying back.

Robb took the hint and kissed Sansa’s temple before pulling on his jacket. “I’ll come by in the morning for breakfast.”

Sansa nodded sleepily. She pulled her braid over her shoulder and pulled up the covers. Robb closed the door as he exited.

“Warm enough, Little Bird?” Sandor wondered.

“Not really.”

“I’ll go ask the nurse for another blanket.”

“Or,” she said, and Sandor turned back around to look at her, “you could just hold me.”

“Is that proper?”

Sansa shrugged, “I don’t know, but it makes me feel safe.”

“No one’s going to hurt you again.”

“You’re right, they’re not. Not at least while you’re holding me.”

“You know I can’t deny you anything,” Sandor grumbled as he climbed back in the bed. He pulled up the blankets and tucked Sansa into the space between his arm and his chest. She curled her arms in front of her and balled up his tee shirt in her fist before taking a deep, contented breath, her nose pressed into his ribs.

“Yeah, I know.”

“‘With great power comes great responsibility.’”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Sandor?”

“Yeah, Little Bird?”

“Tomorrow I want to go for a walk.”

“Outside?”

“Maybe in the courtyard. I want to feel the fall weather. I want to feel normal for a few minutes.”

“We’ll get everything back to normal soon, I promise.”

“Nothing will be the same again. I don’t know what normal is anymore.”

“We’ll have to find a new normal then.”

“We? As in, you’ll help me?”

“Of course. Told you I wasn’t going anywhere, didn’t I?”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not afraid that you won’t still disappear.”

“Can’t fault your feelings, as misguided as they are.”

“My feelings about you are anything but misguided.”

“If you say so, Little Bird.”

“Have you heard anything from the company today?”

“No, nothing from Jeyne. But that’s good. It means she’s handling things.”

“Maybe I should call her tomorrow, just to check in.”

“If you’re feeling up for it.”

“Have you heard from anyone else?”

“I emailed with Edd about beefing up security for a while.”

“Why?”

Sandor shrugged, “seems like the right thing to do while the Queen is out of her castle.”

Sansa scoffed, “I’m no queen.”

“As one of your loyal subjects, I humbly disagree.”

Sansa swatted his side, laughing, then cried out. “Don’t make me laugh, Sandor! It hurts as much as it does when I was sick!”

“Then let’s sleep.”

“I’m halfway there,” she mumbled.

Sandor flexed in a lazy hug and kissed the crown of her head. She hummed happily before drifting off. Sandor followed soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...a SHIT ton has happened in the past week, hasn't it?
> 
> 1\. I was in Iceland - which was SUPER cool. I got to see about 5 GOT filming locations including different mountains north of the wall, the island/lake where Dany loses her first dragon, the Hardhome beach, and the waterfall of the awkward Jon/Dany kiss with Drogon watching. I also got to walk on/in a glacier. I almost got blown off a cliff but instead of me the wind took my beanie. The only things I didn't see were puffins, whales, and the northern lights.
> 
> 2\. As with everything else, my Uni has extended spring break a week and moved all classes online for the rest of the semester. *I HATE and am TERRIBLE at online classes so I'm about to become a really bad student.
> 
> 3\. I was in Iceland when the Europe travel ban went into effect. But I am a US citizen so I got to come back with no troubles.
> 
> 4\. As a result I am in self quarantine for 14 days. I'm fine, no symptoms (except for agony because I can't kiss or properly hug by partner), but the cats are loving me bing home.
> 
> 5\. Since you probably already know, don't go around groups of more than like 10 people. Seriously. However, because of this very smart rule, the entertainment industry has SHUT DOWN. I am an Audio Engineer by trade. Every single one of my gigs for the next 8 weeks have cancelled - and honestly? I suspect it'll go on longer than that. So hopefully I'll have ample time to write lots - when I'm not doing school work.
> 
> Make me feel better and comment and give me kudos? share with your friends?
> 
> p.s. I promise things are starting to pick up in the story now...maybe =)


	14. Chapter 14: Under Arrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winterfell Police arrive and arrest Sansa. TW. 5526 words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa comes back from imaging, sedated after a panic attack. When she wakes, she is sick to her stomach. They watch the Wintertown Wolves play hockey. Arya is a slut (according to Sansa) for taking Bender to the game, sitting at rink level. The competition for favorite aunt is strong between the sisters. After the game, Sandor and Robb agree to do battle for the better French braid. 3940 words.

**TW: Violence, Police Brutality**

In the morning, the doctor made her rounds then the nurse, Bess this time instead of Selna (who at some point had to have a day off) helped Sansa into the bathroom for a washing. She was stronger than the night before, but still shaky on her feet. Sandor passed them the last set of clean clothes Jeyne had given him and promised to get Robb to take the dirty clothes home to launder.

“He doesn’t do laundry!” Sansa scoffed through the door.

“They Jey will help him.”

“I need more than two pairs of clothes at some point.”

“I’ll call the lawyers and ask them to grab some outfits from your closet.”

“No!” Sansa shrieked.

A loud clattering had Sandor at the door in seconds, his hand poised to twist the knob and barge in. “Sansa? Sansa? What’s wrong?”

“No!” she screamed again, followed by another crash.

“I’m coming in—"

“She’s just throwing things, Mr. Clegane,” Bess answered calmly. “She’s upset, not hurt.”

“Little Bird, what’s wrong?” he asked, pressing his ear to the door.

“No,” she said again, softer; her voice small.

“Did Bess accidentally hurt you or was it something I said?”

There was a long pause.

Robb and Arya came in, but Sandor held a hand up to silence them before they even had a chance to speak.

“Sansa?” he asked again, trying to quell his panic.

The door slid open and Bess stepped out, carrying her basket of bathing supplies. She closed it behind her and pat Sandor on the elbow, “She’s okay, just upset. Why don’t you go in and talk to her? But be kind.”

“I always try,” he replied.

“Is she decent?” Robb asked.

Sandor rolled his eyes, though Robb couldn’t see it.

“Yes, she is,” Bess smiled.

Sandor knocked softly and then opened the door. He stepped inside, closing it behind him. Sansa was on the floor, hugging her knees, rocking back and forth. Her hands were white from clutching her upper arms so tight. Sandor crouched and balanced on his toes. He spread his knees to be on either side of Sansa’s; to become her sole focus. He rested his elbows on his thighs and softly placed his hands on hers. She was shaking.

“Sansa?”

Sansa shook her head, biting her lip so hard Sandor worried she might draw blood.

“I upset you, and I’m very sorry for it,” Sandor said softly, rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands but careful to avoid the IV in one.

Sansa whimpered and closed her eyes as a tremor ran through her body.

“What did I say, love?”

She looked up at him but quickly dropped her gaze to the floor somewhere underneath him. Her voice quivered and a few tears leaked out as she whispered, “I don’t want to go back there.”

Oh. The Mansion.

Sandor gulped and squeezed her hands, “Love, is that what this is all about? The estate?”

Sansa dropped her forehead to her knees and nodded, stifling her sniffles.

“You don’t have to go back there if you don’t want to,” he said sincerely. “I promise, love.”

Suddenly she wailed, “I don’t know where else to go when I get out of here!”

“What do you mean?”

“I have to go back there. I can’t go to Robb’s; he has a family and I would be imposing too much on their life. Arya doesn’t have a place, _anywhere_ , so I can’t stay with her and even if I could I would be imposing too much on her too! And I can’t go to the office – I mean I know I practically live there and realistically I could, but there are too many people, all staring, asking questions.”

Sansa gasped for breath, having forgotten to breathe.

Sandor tucked Sansa’s wet hair behind her ear. He kept his hand on the side of her head, wiping the tears with his thumb. “Please don’t worry about it anymore. You’ll never go back to the house if you don’t want to. I’ll strangle anyone who tries to make you.”

“Promise?” she looked up, for a moment she had hope.

Sandor smiled, “of course I promise.”

“I don’t have a place to go then.”

“No, that’s not true. Robb and I have already thought about that. We’ve come up with a place.”

“A hotel, right?” she scoffed. “Which one?”

“No, not a hotel, Little Bird.” Sandor leaned his weight forwards and kissed her hairline. “We thought about it. But there are still too many people at hotels for my liking – and probably for yours too.”

Sansa nodded, wiping her nose on her knee.

“What do you think about staying in a house, outside of Winterfell?”

“Where? What house?” she demanded. “I don’t want to go anywhere where Ra…where, where _he_ went.”

“He’s never been there, I promise,” Sandor assured her, “and neither have you, love. If you don’t like it after a few days, we can find someplace else, but it is at least a start.”

“Oh.”

“What do you say? Hm?” Sandor cocked his head to the side. “Will you give it a chance?”

“Have you seen it?” she asked suddenly.

Sandor laughed, “Yes, I’ve seen it, Little Bird. I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. It is a bit…bachelor-pad looking but we can make it homier and more to your taste if you want. Whatever you need to feel safe and comfortable.”

“How did you find it?” she asked, calming down.

“I own it.”

“What?” Sansa raised her head, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“It’s my house.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I first moved to the North, I found this great house. It was so fucking run down, so I got it dirt cheap. I fixed it up over the years. It’s quite nice now.”

“And that’s where you want me to go?”

Sandor nodded, “Robb and I agree that my house is probably best for now. It’s quite a bit of a drive outside of the city. It’s secluded on more than a few acres of land. It’ll take some time to completely secure all of the property, but the immediate access and house can be totally secure in a matter of days. The best part is that no one knows about it.”

“No one?”

“Well, except for Tormund. He’s been crashing there between deployments. An address for him and his rent covers the mortgage for me.”

“I didn’t know you have a house...” she whispered.

“You did,” Sandor said. “You’ve just forgotten about it with how busy you’ve been and how much has been on your mind the last couple of years.”

“But you have been living at the estate…”

“I stopped using my house when you started needing me full time, at home.”

“I’m sorry!” Sansa buried her face in her hands, howling. “I should have realized that you have a life outside of me, outside of work. But I took over your life! I didn’t even let you live in your own _house!_ I’m so—"

Sandor pulled her against his chest, silencing her and started rubbing circles into her back. “No, don’t apologize, love. I’d rather have been with you, anyway. You needed me and I like your company.”

“I took over your life for five years,” she moaned into his chest, “and now you’re letting me take over your home too? What kind of person _am_ I?!”

“It’s not a home if I don’t have people to share it with, love,” Sandor explained, “so come share it with me, for at least a little while. Be my roommate, if that makes you feel better. Tormund moved in because he didn’t have a place to stay. And now you don’t. He’s gone for a while so you can move in. Besides, it’s quiet and it’s very secluded. We can do lots of walking or hiking, even camping if you want to try that. We can do some light fishing or gardening or small game hunting. The leaves will be completely changing soon, and the views are magnificent, it looks like the mountains are on fire.”

“You don’t like fire,” Sansa reminded him.

“No, but I like a good landscape. And autumn is your favorite season. I really think you’ll like it there.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. But,” he reminded her, “if you don’t like it, we will find you someplace you do.”

Sandor squeezed her hard for a moment, to tell her that he was serious. “Now, about your clothes though—”

“NO!” she exclaimed and raised her head so quickly that Sandor barely moved his out of the way before his chin got knocked hard. She screamed again, “NO!”

“Sansa, Sansa, ‘no’ what?” he asked, immobilizing her again with his strength. “What has you freaked out about your clothes?”

“I don’t want to wear anything from there,” she whimpered. “It’s just as bad as living there again. I want to burn everything I have. I need to get him off of me and away from me and out of me. I want him gone. I can’t get rid of him. But I want to.”

“Ah,” Sandor nodded, tucking Sansa’s head back against his chest. He smoothed her wet hair the way he knew she liked it. “That makes sense.”

“Am I crazy Sandor?”

“No, you are not crazy. You are reacting very reasonably and understandably. Remember what I promised? I’ll stab someone if they force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“You said strangle.”

“I’ll do that too,” he said and swore he felt Sansa nearly chuckle. It didn’t last long.

“I don’t know what to do Sandor.”

“About what?”

“Everything.”

“You have where you’re going to live figured out.”

“What about everything else?”

“You don’t have to worry about work right now.”

“I can’t just _stop_ working.”

“You can and you will, for the time being. Jeyne has it under control and if she needs something, she’ll reach out. It’s why you hired her.”

“I suppose,” Sansa replied, started to soften and relax against Sandor.

“Tell you what, as for the little things, we’ll wash what clothes you do have right now. I’ll call Jeyne and see if you have anything else at the office or the gym or at the cleaners.”

“If it’s at the cleaners I don’t want it!” she barked.

“Then anything there will get donated,” Sandor hastily agreed. “And you can borrow what you don’t have in the meantime. When you’re strong enough and ready to, we’ll take you shopping for whatever you need.”

“I don’t know who to borrow things from.”

“You can borrow a tee shirt from me to sleep in – it’ll be a dress on you anyways. I might have sweats with a drawstring on them that goes small enough for your hips. And I’m sure Jey or Jeyne has something that might fit you. Arya’s too small though.”

“I’m not small!” Arya called out.

“You are to me, Little Wolf,” Sandor replied back, a bit louder.

“She really is short, isn’t she?” Sansa snickered, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

“I heard that!”

Sansa started to pull away but then leaned back against Sandor. “I can’t borrow things for forever though.”

“It’s not for forever. Just long enough for you to be healed and strong enough and ready to go shopping.”

“What if I’m never ready?”

Sandor paused. That hadn’t occurred to him, that Sansa might not fully recover from everything. He just assumed she would, even if it took a really long time. Sansa was strong and willful, and he couldn’t fathom her remaining helpless and broken down. He’d be there for as long as she needed him, but he hoped that she’d become whole again, in some way, shape, or form.

“Well,” he said, thinking, “do you have any shops that already have your size on file? One of the fancier ones?”

Sansa nodded.

“Then easy peasy. We can get someone, maybe Arya or Jey or Robb, to go get you a simple wardrobe. At least until you can go yourself. Just a pair of jeans, a few shirts, a skirt maybe, some tights, underwear, a bra, a pair of sneakers – whatever you want and need. Maybe this afternoon we will start a list. Hmm?”

Sansa nodded, “I think that sounds okay.”

“Good. It’s a plan. We like plans.”

“But what if the clothes don’t fit?”

“Then we’ll return them. It’ll be like trying on clothes but at home.”

“Some of the boutiques might even give me the clothes to try on at home before I buy them,” Sansa thought, wiping her face.

“Even better!”

“Should we make a grocery list too?” Sansa wondered.

“It wouldn’t hurt. I don’t have anything perishable right now,” Sandor admitted. “When we know when you are being released from the hospital, I’ll get someone to go shopping for us.”

Sansa nodded. “Just tell me how much I owe you. For the food and for the rent.”

Sandor chuckled, “No, love, you don’t owe me anything.”

“But Sandor!”

“Don’t get upset now,” he pressed his cheek to her crown. “You keep saying we’re friends. Is that still true?”

“Of course!” Sansa exclaimed, clearly affronted by the notion that it might not be. “You’re my best friend!”

“Then why can’t your best friend help his best friend out when she needs it most?”

Sansa pulled back just far enough to look at his face. She placed a palm on Sandor’s good cheek and sighed, “why are you so good to me Sandor?”

“Someone has to watch your back.”

“I’m glad it’s you.”

“Me too, love, me too.” He smiled at her, happy to see calm wash over her face. “Let’s go get breakfast now, yeah? I’m starving and you must be too. Robb and Arya are outside waiting on us.”

“Okay.”

Sandor pulled Sansa to her feet and helped her into the hospital slippers that were provided to her. They shuffled out of the bathroom. Sansa hugged her siblings and Arya took her arm to be the one to help down to the cafeteria. The little wolf may have purposefully antagonized Sansa by taking Bender to the game, but Sandor knew she did it to distract her sister; to keep things as normal as they could be. Sandor and Robb trailed behind the sisters as they walked down the hall, grinning as Sansa berated Arya for pulling the trickery the night before.

Their quibbling didn’t subside through the meal, but Sandor didn’t mind – it was keeping Sansa’s mind off of the people, specifically off of the men, that they passed. He made sure than they chose a table in the corner and placed Sansa against the wall. It was a seating arrangement that he enacted often for Sansa’s protection. Now it was her psyche that he was trying to shelter a much as her body. Soon though, the sisters weren’t fighting. Instead, they were just talking about the fights and the goals from the game.

Sansa finished her food, pushing her tray away from her. “I’m so full.”

“You’ve eaten more today than you have in a while,” Sandor commented.

“Maybe that’s why I am suddenly so tired?”

“Or maybe it’s because you haven’t left your bed in days,” Arya teased. “At this rate, you’ll not only be taller than me but wider too!”

“Arya!” Sansa gasped, throwing her spoon at her sister, though she was laughing. As though the effort in laughing drained her, Sansa suddenly sagged in her seat. She tipped sideways against Sandor’s shoulder. “I could nap.”

“Let’s get you back to your room then,” Robb suggested, standing. He collected their trays and sorted their plates into the proper dish return bins.

The rest of them followed and began their slow walk upstairs. Despite being tired, Sansa insisted on taking the stairs.

“You just proclaimed how exhausted you are!” Robb exclaimed worried. He eyed his sister carefully. Sandor shook his head, smiling to himself; Robb had quickly turned into the over-protective brother from her childhood that Sansa had told him stories about.

“I don’t know when I’ll have the energy to go for a walk again,” she replied. Sansa left Arya’s side and found Sandor’s elbow.

“Do you still want to walk about the courtyard?” Sandor asked her, tucking his arm in and patting her hand.

“Not today,” she yawned again, “I fear I’m completely drained.”

“Perhaps tomorrow then,” he murmured.

“Yes.” Sansa said and began the slow climb.

As they exited the stairwell and turned towards the double doors leading to Sansa’s secure ward, Sandor’s heart stopped. It took everything he had to stop himself from tensing. Sansa, holding onto his arm for strength in climbing the stairs, would sense his agitation in a second. He wanted to spin her around and scoop her up in his arms. He wanted to run and take her as far away as he could, to protect her from what, he had a sinking feeling, was coming.

In the waiting room stood Detective Whitehall and four other uniformed police officers. They turned in their direction at the sound of Sansa’s laughter at something Arya had just said. Sandor didn’t know what it was. He had missed the joke. His heart was racing, despite how he desperately tried to keep it under control. The woman on his arm caused all of his years of training to blow out the window.

“Mrs. Bolton,” Detective Whitehall called out, stepping forwards.

“It’s Doctor Stark, sir,” she replied automatically before she turned to face the speaker. It was Sansa’s reflex to do so. She hated being called by her husband’s last name – a name she hadn’t taken upon their marriage. And she hated when her doctorate was not recognizes – especially when it came with men who were even remotely intimidated by her status and success.

“My apologies, Dr. Stark,” Whitehall replied, coming even closer.

For a moment Sansa tensed at the sight of the approaching man. Then, realization donned on her as to who was waiting for her, who was coming for her. Her face paled and her hands, on Sandor’s forearms, became vice-like. She ground her teeth, swallowing hard. Sandor could feel her pulse spike in her wrist.

“I’m not sure if you remember me,” the detective began.

Sansa’s face remained frozen in fear. If she did recognize him, and Sandor couldn’t be sure what she remembered from that night, Sansa did not, or perhaps she physically could not, show him any acknowledgement of knowing or remembering who he was.

“My name is Detective Denzin Whitehall. I am with the Winterfell Police Department. I was the detective who responded to the 9-1-1 call Mr. Clegane made on your behalf earlier this week.” He held out his hand for her to shake as the elevator dinged in the distance.

Sansa’s eyes remained wide, hardly blinking. Sandor could see her chest rising and falling under her cardigan in sharp, erratic breaths. He placed his free hand on hers, to remind her that he was still next to her.

She did not accept the detective’s handshake greeting.

“Well, then, if you’ve nothing to say, I’ll move on to why I’m here,” Detective Whitehall said, his voice turning cold. He reached under his blazer behind him and pulled out a pair of silver, shiny handcuffs.

“Doctor Sansa Stark, you are under arrest for the assault and murder of your husband, Lord Ramsey Snow-Bolton,” he took a step forward and Sansa’s knees gave out.

Sandor caught her by yanking on her left arm. Robb stepped forward on the other side of her and caught her arm. Together they held her upright. Every fiber of her body shook.

“By the rights established and bestowed upon the people of Westeros by the good Queen Alysanne, and upheld by Her Royal Majesty Queen Myrcella, long may she reign, Sansa Stark, you may remain silent if you wish, until such time as you are sworn to speak the truth in front of the courts,” Detective Whitehall said as he grabbed Sansa’s elbow between Robb’s hands.

Sansa whimpered.

What little strength she had regained in her legs was lost once more. She glanced up at Sandor as he tightened his grip on her to keep her upright. But seeing her eyes, he nearly lost his own knees. It wasn’t her fear of being arrested that rendered her unable to move. Her eyes begged him to get her out of this situation, in the same way she had hundreds of times when her husband was around, in the same way she had countless times at business sauries and conferences when the men were too friendly and too handsy. No, it wasn’t the arrest. It was the _man_ arresting her and the _men_ behind him, ready to help should the detective need it, that she was terrified of.

Detective Whitehall continued his required speech as he closed the first handcuff around her wrist, “After you have been booked and processed,” he closed the second handcuff around her other wrist and Sandor wanted to rip his fingers off, “you may contact your legal representation, should you wish to do so. If you cannot afford—”

“Yes, yes, one will be assigned to her,” Mrs. Tradd interrupted as she appeared at Sandor’s arm. She held out her hand, as if waiting to be handed something.

“And you are?” Detective Whitehall asked, pointedly ignoring the outstretched hand.

“Monira Tradd, _one_ of Dr. Stark’s lawyers. I believe you’ve met briefly with my colleague, Corren Botley?” she asked, motioning to the man standing next to her.

“Yes.”

“Good, then you’ve met the important members of Dr. Stark’s legal counsel, specifically when it comes to the matter of her arrest today.” Mrs. Tradd said curtly. “I hope that I assume correctly that you have brought with you the _signed_ warrant from a high judge for my client’s arrest and detainment?”

One of the officers stepped forward and handed a packet of papers to Mrs. Tradd.

“Good. In the meantime, while Counselor Botley and I review the warrant and its legality, be so kind as to please take your hands off of my client.” Mrs. Tradd nodded her head in the direction of the detective’s hands. They were still holding Sansa’s wrists. “As you can tell, she is in no physical condition to make a break for it and nor would she try. You have my assurances of that, detective.”

Detective Whitehall hesitated in letting go of Sansa’s wrists. Sandor couldn’t help but let a growl rumble through his chest. A hand, coming from behind Tradd, pat his shoulder. He glanced at the person long enough to recognize it as another lawyer, Tarla Clarick. And she was telling him, with her stern face and an ever so slight shake of her head, to stand down. Sandor hadn’t realized before that she was former military command. However, he recognized a direct order when it was given to him from a superior. Verbal or otherwise.

Detective Whitehall finally let his hands drop, sliding down Sansa’s hands and causing her to jerk away violently. The detective stepped back one pace with his arms folded over his chest. Sandor could nearly swear he saw the detective smirk at Sansa’s reaction.

Mrs. Tradd unfolded the warrant and began to read through it carefully, slowly.

“Sandor, Robb, take Sansa over to the chairs and sit her down,” Selna’s voice broken the tension filled silence, appearing out of nowhere.

They turned to heed the nurse’s advice, but Detective Whitehall’s booming voice stopped them.

“Do not move!” he commanded, stepping forwards once more.

Selna appeared between Sansa and the police detective, physically shielding her with her own body She huffed, “You have her in handcuffs, detective. And you have assurances from her legal team that she is not going to go anywhere. Now I am telling you, as a part of her medical team, Dr. Stark _needs to sit down._ ”

“You’re just a nurse,” he scoffed, grinning. “You have little control over her care.”

“Might be,” Selna shrugged; cool, calm, and collected as Sandor had ever seen her, “but if I page any one of Dr. Stark’s three doctors, they _will_ back me up. She should not be standing unaided—”

“She has two men aiding her,” Detective Whitehall interrupted.

“—but the way they’re holding her,” she motioned to Sandor and Robb’s holds on her arms, ignoring the disruption, “is not proper. She is in a lot of pain and cannot be properly held up due to her injuries. Dr. Stark needs to _sit down_.”

“That is not going to happen,” the detective insisted.

Selna shook her head, “Detective, allow my patient to sit as is best for her health and care, or I will be forced to call the hospital legal services team. We will file an account of abuse towards a patient, by you, Detective Whitehall, and the WPD.”

Detective Whitehall’s stern face faltered.

“By the rights bestowed upon the people of Westeros by the good Queen Alysanne, and upheld by Her Royal Majesty Queen Myrcella, long may she reign, I have the authority to intervene on the behalf of an individual when it comes to the health and wellbeing of my patient,” Selna said, throwing the law back in his face. For an extra measure, she pulled out her phone from her pocket and unlocked the screen. She scrolled through the contacts.

“Fine,” Detective Whitehall finally relented. He pointed to a chair, “Sit there, in that chair, Mrs. Bolton.”

“It’s Doctor Stark!” Arya barked.

Sandor swallowed hard and ignored the detective. He and Robb turned Sansa towards the appointed chair, but she moaned in protest at every movement.

“We’re just going to sit you down, Sansan,” Robb said. “It’ll hurt less than us holding you up. Just a few steps.”

Sansa shook her head.

Carefully, Sandor eased his arm more around her body so that there was less pressure on her shoulder. He was careful not to squeeze her ribs too tight. Sandor leaned in close to her ear. She leaned into the closeness. He whispered, “be strong for me, Little Bird. It’ll be over in a second. Take a step with me now.”

Sansa dragged her foot forward.

“Good, good!” Sandor encouraged, remaining in the hunched over position.

Robb and Sandor shuffled forwards.

“Now take another step.”

Sansa whimpered again.

“Another step, love, and you’re almost there,” Sandor insisted.

Sansa did.

“You’re doing great, Sansan,” Robb told her.

They were able to coax five or six more steps from her before her knees gave out yet again. Robb lost his hold on her. With his arm already around her, Sandor easily caught her weight. Though the cry of pain from her lips told him that he had jostled her ribs.

“I’m sorry, Little Bird,” he said as he carried her easily the last few steps to the chair.

He sat her down and took the seat next to her. She sat limply with Robb on the other side. Both of them were holding her upright, but she leaned heavily against Sandor. It was though she wasn’t even trying to hold herself up anymore. Sandor feared that she was giving up despite her promise to him.

Selna knelt on the ground in front of Sansa to check her pulse. She shined her penlight into Sansa’s eyes before checking her shoulders and ribs.

“Is the warrant valid?” Arya said, speaking up.

Sandor looked up. The Little Wolf was carefully watching Botley and Tradd analyze the document closely.

Finally, Botley refolded the packet. “Yes. Detective Whitehall is arresting Dr. Stark for her husband’s murder.”

“But…?” Arya demanded.

Sometimes Sandor forgot that Arya was trained very similarly to him and that she could read body language almost like a book; like he could when he wasn’t completely overcome by emotions toward the Little Wolf’s sister.

Counselor Botley said, “The judge has ordered, upon suggestion and request from the D.A., that Dr. Stark be moved to a private room _outside_ of her current ward—”

“What!” Selna exclaimed standing up swiftly and spinning around.

“—to allow Dr. Stark,” Botley continued, unfazed, “to remain under police observation, until which time she is released from the hospital and can be taken into proper custody.”

“You mean taken to jail!” Arya yelled.

Three more uniformed officers came jogging down the hall then.

“Can’t you stop the ward transfer from happening?” Robb pleaded with both the lawyers and Selna. “The doctor was just saying to me yesterday about how Sansa needs the isolated environment!”

“We will make the appropriate appeals,” Tradd said, handing the warrant to the assistant behind her. The assistant spun on his heals and walked to the end of the hall with his cell phone already to his ear. He was speaking quickly and quietly. “In the meantime, we have no choice but to comply or be arrested and held in contempt of court. And that would not do anyone any good.”

“May I proceed with my job now, counsel?” Detective Whitehall asked mockingly.

“Unfortunately,” was all Botley could say.

“Phyre, Hamell, take her to her new room and begin the booking process,” the detective called.

The two officers walked around Whitehall and grabbed Sansa by the arms, yanking her to her feet.

“Don’t touch her like that!” Robb jumped up, shouting.

Sandor was quick to follow.

Phyre and Hamell were pulling Sansa away.

The other two officers lurched forward to restrain Robb by his arms, preventing him from running after his sister. Sansa started screaming, thrashing, as she pulled against the officers. She looked back over her shoulder at Sandor pleadingly. She tried to fight them as they half walked, half dragged her away from them, but she was no match, especially in her current state. Clarick and another legal assistant were already containing Arya, who was kicking and screaming for them to let her go. As Sandor took a step towards Sansa, the three new officers advanced on him. Whitehall turned to follow the two officers taking Sansa away.

“Sandor! Sandor!” she shrieked; each cry a gut punch to him; each scream another dagger to his already tender heart.

“Stay where you are sir,” one of them said addressing Sandor.

Sandor ignored him and kept walking. He had to follow her, he had to protect her.

“No! No! Let me go! Let me go! Sandor!”

“I’m coming Sansa!” he called back to her. “I’ll be right there! I’m not giving up on you!”

“Sandor!” she screamed and howled, hysteria taking over now.

Sandor was about to launch into a sprint when two officers grabbed his arms, one bending his right one painfully up behind his back. He should have seen this tactic coming before it was implemented. He was trained to predict restraint moves. He was better than this. He should have seen them closing in on him. Sandor could have overpowered all of the officers in the room with minimal effort. But now that they had him in this hold, he was near powerless to fight the grip they had on him. The third officer approached as Sandor continued to struggle. He had to try. He had to get to her if he could.

“Let go of me, you fuckers!” he growled at them, his anger building.

“Sandor!”

Her voice was fading as they took Sansa farther away from him.

Tradd and Botley were running after her, Selna close on their heels.

“Sansa!” he bellowed back. He shifted the right way and managed to free his arm from behind his back.

At the same time, the third officer kicked out his knee from behind and to the side and he fell to his chest.

Sansa saw.

“No! No! Let him go! Don’t hurt him!” she shrieked.

“I’ll be fine! Stay strong for me, Little Bir—" the last word got cut off as one of the officers knelt into his back to keep him on the ground, forcing all air from his lungs.

Sandor managed to take a deep breath. It was so hard to see her from this level on the ground. He could only spot the flying of red hair as she fought against the officers. He had to try to get her to hear him again…she had to remember to stay strong for him…

“Hold on for me, Sansa!” he bellowed as best he could. “You won’t be alone for long! I promise! I lo—”

The officers turned Sandor’s face and smashed his cheek into the tile floor, cutting off his words.

But they didn’t cover his ears.

He could still hear Sansa weeping, screaming, screeching, crying out for him to help her, for him to save her.

Sandor closed his eyes and prayed to all of the Gods that the officers wouldn’t hurt her. If they did, she would lose him forever because he would hunt them all down and take their oh-so-precious lives for what they’d done to her.

All he could hear as he gave up his struggles was Sansa, still shrieking his name, fade into the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's day 10 of self-quarantine and I haven't completely gone insane yet. It's day 2 of online university classes and I'm not crazy about them. My dog was a hit on Zoom though. [@Lucy_the_production_pug](https://www.instagram.com/lucy_the_production_pug/) on instagram. I guess while I'm plugging things... [@kavvudu](https://www.instagram.com/kavvudu/) for mostly cat photos, [@oli.st.james](https://www.instagram.com/oli.st.james/) for professional photos, and [@consa_stark](https://www.instagram.com/consa_stark/) for my feeble attempts at cosplaying Sansa Stark. I am [@LittleWolfBird](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/littlewolfbird) on Tumblr and [@oli_st_james](https://twitter.com/oli_st_james) on twitter.
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated!


	15. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The waiting room begins to get cleaned up from Sansa's arrest, Arya and Robb are rolled away, and Sandor is forced to admit he's not invincible. 7378 Words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Previously on _Innocence_ :** WPD, in a group consisting of a bunch of men, show up and arrest Sansa Stark for the murder of Ramsay Bolton. Robb and Sandor are prevented from coming to Sansa's aid. She is dragged off screaming for Sandor to save her.
> 
> Attention! Attention! _Innocence_ has reached 200 Microsoft Word, single spaced pages and 103,000 words! I think to date this is my longest writing project that I've ever done, and I'm like a third of the way through writing it. I am so glad you guys like long chapters....

When Sandor did open his eyes, it took him a few moments of rapid blinking to focus and take in his surroundings. Robb was still struggling with one of the officers who had originally grabbed him. His dark red hair was unkempt and matting down to his skin from sweat. His suit had come untucked. A button near his collar had popped off. At some point, the other officer had let go of Robb and instead had wrestled Arya to the ground. She was lying on the ground in a similar position as Sandor. Her eyes were closed, her face calm. However, unlike her eldest brother, the younger Stark sister wasn’t struggling, fighting.

“Lil Wffff,” Sandor mumbled, trying to call to her. There was still a hand on his jaw, firmly holding him to the ground.

She never stirred, never gave him a hint that she had heard him.

“You bastard!” Robb shouted suddenly.

Sandor lifted his eyes away from Arya and found the detective sauntering back into the waiting room.

“You _fucking_ bastard!” Robb screamed again, nearly able to pull free from the officer.

The officer on top of Arya jumped up and grabbed the Lord’s elbow, helping his partner once again keep Robb from attacking Detective Whitehall.

Arya still lay motionless.

“Did you have to fucking take Sansa like that!? She was just assaulted! She was _raped!_ ” Robb screamed. Spittle spewed from his lips. His face was red, like Sansa’s on the few occasions she had allowed herself to lose her temper. It caused his freckles to stand out on his nose, just like Sansa’s had. Though unlike his sister, the vein in his temple bulged. He hollered again, “She was _raped,_ and you decide that it’s okay to bring an army of _men_ to arrest her?! She was _assaulted_ by a man who has abused her for years and you allow your men to _man_ handle her?! You will fucking pay for this, Whitehall. I’ll have your fucking rank and your fucking badge for this. Did you even fucking _think_ about how this would affect my sister? No! You clearly did not! Cause you are a bloody mindless, dimwitted, cowardly shit-eating cunt! Your fucking actions reveal you to be a self-centered misogynistic fucking—”

One of the officers elbowed Robb in the nose so hard Sandor could hear his nose breaking from two meters away.

Robb immediately fell limp against the other officer, dazed as blood dribbled down his face and onto his white dress shirt. The officers unceremoniously dumped him in a chair after pulling his arms behind his back and handcuffing him.

At the same time, Sandor recognized his own wrists being pulled together and heard the familiar clicking as the shackles closed around his flesh, pinching him too tightly. That, he knew, was also deliberate. Though, once Sandor had been handcuffed, the officers stood up. They seemed to deem him fairly harmless now. Sandor took a deep breath for the first time in minutes. His lungs and his brain cried out in joy. He coughed, gasping for a second, before rolling to his side.

“Little Wolf?” he groused.

Sandor inched his way across the floor towards the younger Stark sister, ignoring the pain in his body that was screaming at him to stop. Somewhere above, he could hear most of the officers laughing at him. He didn’t care. Sandor knew better than to try and stand up right now. Not only would that make them kick out his knee again, but he wouldn’t be able to put weight on his knee. How they had chosen the leg with a previous injury was more than he cared to think about at the moment. It throbbed angrily as he relinquished himself to his only option: sliding like a worm on the floor towards the Stark sister.

“Arya?” he said, nudging her with his shoulder.

She didn’t move or respond but Sandor did see her back rise and fall with her tiny breaths.

He looked closely at her face to see if she was playing dead. He would not be surprised if that were the case. She was both stupid enough and smart enough to attempt something so childish. Now that Sandor was useless, the Little Wolf was the only one of the three of them who stood a chance at evading and out running the cops and getting to her sister before more and irreparable damage was done. She was the only one of the three of them not handcuffed, so maybe she was playing this cleverly. All over special training probably encouraged her to come up with something so hairbrained. Plus, she was the only one of the three of them not bleeding…

“Arya!” he cried out when he realized that she _was_ bleeding.

There was a small puddle near her temple. It was gooping up her Stark-colored short hair. The realization that the Little Wolf wasn’t faking it hit Sandor like a ton of bricks. She was actually unconscious. Something was actually wrong with the Arya.

“Help!” Sandor roared. “Doctor! Nurse! Help! Help! Someone get me a doctor!”

Clarick ran down the hall to the nurses’ station to raise her own hell for him.

“No! Le’ me go! Le’ may see m’ sis’er!”

Sandor turned his head around to see Robb, who’s face, and shirt were smattered with his own blood, fighting the cops again. This time, he was trying to come to Arya’s side, but they would not let him help his other sister.

“Sir, what hurts?” a doctor was abruptly at his side, kneeling next to Sandor, opening his eyelid and shining a penlight in his eyes. Then she was feeling his pulse on his jugular vein.

Sandor growled and shook his head.

“No, you fucking twat, not me, Arya. Check Arya!” Sandor barked. His panic, first for Sansa and then for Arya, was subsiding and rapidly turning to rage. “I think the cunt cop slammed her to the ground and now there’s blood at her head and she’s not moving. I’d check her myself, but as you can probably fucking see, I’m a little _tied up_ at the moment.”

“Calm down, Mr. Clegane.” she said and stood. She crossed to the other side of Sandor’s body. The doctor knelt between Sandor and Arya. Then, as if responding to his furrowing brow, she added, “Yes, I remember you, Mr. Clegane. I’m not offended that you don’t remember me. I was the ER doctor, my name is Dr. Apperford, who treated Sansa Stark when she first came in.”

Sudden relief flooded Sandor’s mind, “You understand, then. You know why this is all fucked up.”

“Yes, I do. Keep your cool now,” she pleaded with him, “like you did then, and things will go a lot better, a lot smoother for you.”

“But they took her!” he whimpered. “They took her away and she’s not strong enough to handle it.”

“I heard,” she said kindly. “And I agree – this was poorly handled on the police’s side of things. I have already sent her doctors to her room and called for her normal nurse. They are probably sedating her now. I also have a nurse contacting legal – for all of our sakes.”

Sandor nodded but could no longer see Arya or what they were doing to her.

“Get me a gurney and gauze,” the doctor ordered to a nurse a moment later.

“Doc, is she…is she okay?” Sandor wondered. He already failed one Stark sister. He very well couldn’t fail the other too. Not in the span of less than ten minutes.

“At most she’ll have a concussion, I suspect,” the doctor replied. “At minimum, she’ll have a cut on her temple and a raging headache when she wakes.”

“But she will wake?”

“Oh yes,” she chuckled and assured Sandor.

“What about Robb?”

“Who?”

Sandor twisted to look up at Sansa’s older brother. He was leaning his head back against the wall in a pathetic effort to stop his nose bleed. He called out, “Robb? Robb, man, you okay?”

Robb didn’t answer.

The doctor stood once Arya was on the gurney and walked over to Robb. She took the towel one of the nurses held out to her and folded it up. Before she placed it on Robb’s face, she looked at Detective Whitehall.

“I would appreciate it if you took the handcuffs off of all of my patient now.”

“No can do,” Whitehall responded shrugging, looking not in the least apologetic. “He was obstructing justice by attempting to prevent the lawful arrest of a murderer. Just patch him up quick, doc, so we can take him downtown to book him. Patch all three of them up. I want to get rolling so I’m not stuck at my desk till all hours filling out paperwork.”

“Absolutely not.” It was Clarick this time, stepping in, and putting herself between Whitehall and Robb. “Even if your claim of obstruction holds, you’ll not be the ones taking them to the station – none of you are. First and foremost, they’ll be treated for their injuries – but go ahead and just _try_ to take away that right from them too.”

“They’re being treated right now,” Whitehall pointed out, indicating the doctor and three nurses in the waiting room.

“Ms. Stark is being loaded onto a gurney because she’s _unconscious_ from a head wound,” Clarick countered. “Mr. Stark is being denied proper treatment by your bullheadedness in refusing to remove his handcuffs.”

“If you removed his handcuffs, I doubt he could run anywhere,” the doctor pointed out, “his nose is so swollen right now and he’s probably still seeing stars.”

Robb nodded as much as he could in agreement.

Clarick continued, “And Mr. Clegane sustained a blow to the knee that collapsed him in place.”

“Just get the them ready to go.”

“Absolutely not,” the doctor finally snapped at him. “The young Ms. Stark here will need to be scanned and monitored for complications that are possible and do often occur when one gets their head smashed into a tile floor, and at the very least she has a concussion; Mr. Stark needs to have his nasal cavity flushed and iced – and that’ll hurt like no other – then he’ll need to get scanned as well considering he _is_ still seeing stars, I suspect a minor concussion for him as well; and finally, and I haven’t even so much as _looked_ in the general direction of Mr. Clegane’s knee, he will need to be examined and treated, and I suspect he will possibly scanned too while his face gets stitched up.”

The doctor took a breath but didn’t stop long enough for Whitehall to get a word in edgewise. “You are not completely wrong, Detective. They are getting treatment; however, it is just the _beginning_ of treatment for them – it will be some time before I’ll let any of them leave my hospital. And while they are recuperating from their physical injuries, all three of them will have a psych eval ordered.”

Detective Whitehall laughed. “And why on Planatos would they need one of those? That’ll take all day, if not longer. You’re stalling their arrest.”

The doctor stood and squared her shoulders. “Are you completely daft, detective? These two just saw their sister, and he just saw his best friend, quite literally _ripped_ from their hands and dragged off by a couple of male officers – not days after she’d been assaulted. And then they were assaulted themselves by more police! All three will be and are going to get a psych evaluation, even if they don’t want it or if you don’t think they need one.”

“You’re stalling,” Whitehall accused again.

“And if I am?” the doctor challenged.

Detective Whitehall glared but found no response.

The doctor laughed, “Take it up with the hospital legal counsel detective – they should be on their way as we speak.”

Whitehall sighed. He motioned to one of the uniformed officers, “remove both handcuffs.”

“Even the big bastard?” one of them asked.

Sandor glared.

“Yes, him too.”

“I kicked him hard enough he won’t be running today,” another chuckled as he began to pull the keys off his belt.

“That’s it – _out_!” the doctor barked. “Detective, I want all of these officers out of my hospital _now_!”

“You can’t do that,” Whitehall laughed.

“You assault three civilians in my waiting room, thus making them my patients, and you terrorize another long-term patient of the hospital. Now you’re openly acknowledging your violent actions and joking about it. I really do not care if I can or cannot do this. The point is: I am.”

At that moment a handful of hospital security arrived followed by Lothar and Bronn, from Sansa’s company, from his team. Sandor sighed, relieved to have familiar muscle and help, now that Arya was knocked out for a while.

The doctor addressed the hospital security but pointed towards the police, “as soon as these men take off the handcuffs from my patients, take their names and badge numbers and then remove them from the premises completely. All of them. They are not to return to the property for _any_ reason whatsoever until all four of my patients have been cleared and released.”

Security nodded, understanding.

“Doc, do you have any female security?” Sandor said, speaking up. “For Sansa?”

“Oh, that’s a good point,” a nurse said. He turned to the closest guard. “Hugar, radio in to Braella and Valeris. Ask them to join us.”

Hugar pulled his radio off of his belt.

The doctor nodded, agreeing with her nurse but spoke before the guard could, “but send them to Dr. Stark’s new room and tell them to escort any police officer there out of the building with the same instructions.”

“You’ll be sorry you’ve decided to do this, doctor,” Detective Whitehall threatened as he turned to leave.

She ignored him. To her hospital staff she said, “Okay, let’s get these guys to rooms to be assessed.”

Sandor growled at the cop who had kicked his knee in as he bent over and unlocked the handcuffs pinching Sandor’s wrist. The pressure of the officer kneeling on his back was unnecessary but Sandor held his tongue.

Once freed, Sandor carefully brought his arms around to his sides and then pushed himself up on his elbows. His shoulders were definitely sore from being wrenched backwards and held in that position on the floor. Blood was rushing back into his hands and arms, causing them to tingle and throb.

He thought ruefully, _I’m no spring chicken anymore_.

“You gonna snap at us if we help you up?” Bronn asked, nearly reading Sandor’s mind as he appeared and crouched at Sandor’s right side.

Lothar was on his left.

Sandor looked up at them. “No because you didn’t see me get laid out on my face, completely caught off guard while I was watching my mark be dragged down the hallway by a couple of brute cunt cops. I can be humble enough to get help to get off this fucking floor.”

“Who, the boss humble?” Lothar laughed. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Alright, alright.” Sandor rasped. “Just get me off the fucking floor, and gentle too! My shoulders are fucking killing me.”

Lothar and Bronn helped Sandor roll over so that he was sitting on his haunches. That move alone made him hiss when he tried to move his knee. Next, they knelt down and each took one of Sandor’s arms around their shoulders. On the count of three, they stood, bringing Sandor with them. The combined jostle of his shoulders and his knee made him snarl angrily. The sudden movement rushed the blood from his head, and he saw blackness and stars for a moment.

Once standing and seeing clearly again, Sandor balanced on his good leg with a hand on Lothar’s arm.

“Here, sit,” a nurse urged him as she came forward with a wheelchair.

“I don’t need to be fucking pushed around.”

“Oh, so you can walk all by yourself then?” Bronn replied, raising his eyebrow. “Fantastic, Lothar and I’ll just be headed back to the Broken Tower then.”

Lothar made a move to walk away from Sandor. That only caused him to wobble terribly. He snagged Lothar’s shoulder just before he stepped out of reach.

“Fuck you both. Give me the damn chair.” Sandor replied, relenting.

Bronn grinned.

The nurse brought the wheelchair up right behind him so all he had to do was sit.

With the pressure off of his knee and his shoulders, Sandor took a deep breath. Looking around he saw a janitor cleaning up the blood from where Arya had lain. Robb had his head tilted back with a towel pressed to his face. He was being directed to stand, turn around, and sit again, into a wheelchair much like Sandor’s.

“Robb, you gonna live?” he croaked.

“My face feels like it’s four times too big and I still can’t see straight. But yeah, I’ll be all right,” Robb answered. “You?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you able to go sit with my sister? If the police are being kicked out, she’ll be alone, unprotected.”

Sandor shook his head then remembered Robb couldn’t see him. “No, I’m not that fine. I’ve gotta get my damn knee looked at.”

“She needs someone. She needs you.”

“I’ll get there as soon as I get the OK.”

“I suppose, she’ll be okay for a few hours,” Robb said as he tried to reason with himself.

“No, she won’t,” Sandor countered. “I can’t go but, I guess you can’t see them; I have two guys here from the company. Lothar and Bronn. They’ll stand in till I’m on my feet. Or, at least, until I am cleared to go to her.”

“Okay, good, good,” Robb said. He sucked in a painful breath as the nurse jostled him, starting to push him away. “I’ll see you soon then.”

“Yeah, you too.”

With Robb being wheeled away, Sandor was left alone in the waiting room for a minute with two of his best employees. They waited patiently while he rocked back and forth at the hips, rubbing his good leg when all he wanted to do was rub the bad one.

Finally, Sandor sighed, “what do you two fucks know?”

“Enough to know that we shouldn’t be discussing this out in the open,” Bronn replied cheekily.

“How?” Sandor balked. What had leaked? Had the media gotten ahold of the story yet?

“I was here the other day bringing you clothes.”

“Oh, that’s right.” The last week was a blur to Sandor. He wasn’t even sure what day it actually was.

“Are you ready to go to your room, Mr. Clegane?” the nurse asked, reappearing.

“Yes, and quickly.”

Sandor remained silent for the short ride to the private room.

The nurse tried to get him to switch to the bed, but Sandor snapped at her; he was fine in the wheelchair until a doctor took a look at him. What he didn’t tell them was it hurt too much to move.

“You shouldn’t have to wait too long before Dr. Apperford will be here. Do you need anything in the meantime?” they asked kindly.

Sandor shook his head, attempting a smile, failing miserably. “No, thank you. If I do, I’ll hit the button.”

“Of course.”

“And thank you for all of your help out there,” Sandor said sincerely as he motioned to the hallway. “Do you mind closing the door on the way out?”

“Of course not,” they said, “I’ll be back to check on you in a little bit.”

Sandor nodded and waited for the door to latch. Then he stared at Lothar and Bronn. Calmly he commanded, “Speak. Tell me what you know.”

Lothar deferred to his senior, Bronn, to speak.

“Poole was giving us a run down, before we left the office this morning, telling us what she felt comfortable with,” Bronn began.

“And what was that?”

“That something big and bad happened to Dr. Stark, at Dr. Starks house, and, as a result, she is incapacitated for an indeterminate amount of time.”

“Did she say _what_ happened?”

“No, sir,” Lothar shook his head.

Sandor rolled his eyes, but he had never been able to break Lothar of his habit of using ‘sir’ when speaking with him.

“I’m assuming it was a B&E and an assault of some kind, if something happened at the house and Dr. Stark is incapacitated. But Poole was pretty shaken up over it, whatever it was – she had a hard time finding the words. As a result, she didn’t actually tell us what went on earlier this week.”

“I know what happened to Poole, with her ex-husband,” Bronn said, watching Sandor’s face closely as he probed for answers.

Lothar blinked, surprised. “What happened between Poole and her ex?”

Sandor, ever the professional, kept his face expressionless. He said nothing to Lothar. He gave away nothing.

Bronn continued, “If I had to guess, boss, it wasn’t a simple breaking and entering incident. Something physical went down between Dr. Stark and Lord Bolton. And considering Poole’s nervous temperament now, your out-of-character emotions when we arrived, Mr. and the younger Ms. Stark’s willingness to fight the bloody cops, I am confident that Dr. S. didn’t fair too well in the altercation with her husband.”

“And you asked for a female guard,” Lothar added, slowly catching up.

Sandor kept his face collected.

“Oh, that’s right,” Bronn agreed. “You and the doctor agreed to send women security to her room.”

“I’d say,” Lothar said thinking out loud, “I’d say that – regardless of that fact if it was her husband or not – Dr. Stark was sexually assaulted, if not raped.”

Sandor couldn’t help gulping and closing his eyes for the briefest of seconds. All he could see was Ramsey’s bare ass cheeks and Sansa’s state of undress.

This response was all the two men needed for confirmation.

Lothar reached out for a chair and dropped in it heavily. He rubbed his full, bushy, brown beard apprehensively. “Seven help her,” he muttered.

Bronn spun around on his heel and looked as though he were about to punch the wall, but then thought differently. Instead, he patted it, as if he were greeting an old friend at a bar-b-que. Many emotions washed over his face.

“And the cops?” Bronn finally asked, turning around. “What just happened out there?”

Somehow Sandor found his voice, though it was very soft and gravely, even to his own ears, “They’re arresting San—Dr. Stark for murdering her husband.”

“So, it _was_ the creepy Lord,” Bronn nodded, as though this wasn’t entirely surprising. “Oh, and boss? We know you’re on first name basis with Dr. Stark – after five years of being at her side nearly 24/7, I would expect nothing less. And everyone knows you two were friends before she hired you at the company. If you need to be a little less…stoic and…Warrior-like, at least around us two, we won’t tell. You’re entitled to being human occasionally.”

“Yeah, it’s been,” Sandor rubbed his brow, ignoring the last comment and closing his eyes for a minute, “Mother, Crone, and Maiden, we’ve known each other at least fifteen years. Maybe almost twenty, I can’t be sure. I don’t remember exactly when the first time our paths crossed.”

“A lot of families don’t last that long,” Bronn offered, “so you know that you have a good friend.”

“I’m not stupid enough to threaten your jobs, but please, keep our closeness under wraps – especially now, with everything that is going on,” Sandor asked.

“We’re your friends too, not just employees. If you’ve got a less than ice cold relationship with your mark, I’d say that’s not a bad thing – especially with five years of nearly 24/7 shadowing under your belt.” Lothar replied shrugging.

“It’s more than that.” Sandor couldn’t believe what he was hearing, what was spewing from his own mouth, what he was confessing. It had to be the pain, right? It just had to be…but damn, it felt good for Sandor to say it, nonetheless. “We are friends. She keeps insisting the hospital staff refer to me as her best friend – she gets really upset when someone, and that someone is usually me, points out she’s _my_ boss. She’s right though: she is my best friend. And _fuck_ ,” Sandor rubbed his hands over his face, “it’s really fucking hard to see her like this. And there is so little I can do about it right now.”

“How bad of shape is she in?” Bronn wondered.

Sandor understood his meaning: how was Sansa physically?

He shook his head, “it could have been much, much worse.”

“She’ll recover?”

“Aye.”

“But it’s still pretty bad?” Lothar asked.

“Aye.”

“She’s your best friend, on top of being your mark, and so you have professional guilt and emotional heartache.” Bronn’s question wasn’t one.

“Fucking sounds about right,” Sandor huffed, not able to meet either of their eyes.

“Who found her?”

Sandor closed his eyes, once again seeing the state of the house, seeing Sansa crumpled on the floor at the foot of her bed. He shook his head to clear the water forming underneath his eyelids, “I did.”

Neither men said anything for a long while. Sandor was at least grateful for that.

“Wait, the cops are arresting her for murder?” Lothar said, speaking up, as realization donned on him. “For _murder?”_

“It was self-defense,” Sandor barked.

“I have no doubt about that! Dr. S. may be ruthless in business, but she hasn’t got a violent bone in her body – not unless her back is up against a wall. Like a cornered wolf.” Lothar held up his hands to show his belly. He wasn’t trying to argue with Sandor. He wasn’t a threat. “But the fucker is dead?”

“As a doorknob.”

“And they’re trying to pin it on her?”

“It’s not hard,” Sandor admitted. “She _did_ kill him. I only wish it had been me, instead of her, but I didn’t get home in time. And so she had to kill him. But because he dragged her around the house, bleeding from dozens of gashes and cuts, until he ra—”

Sandor’s voice caught in his throat and he looked down at his useless hands. Hands that were supposed to protect her. They were shaking, trembling like he’d never seen them do so before.

“I don’t know. Maybe he…maybe he _assaulted_ her more than once. I don’t know. But who knows how long he would have kept going had she not stopped him herself?”

“You were on your way home – you would have stopped him if it was still happening,” Bronn said encouragingly.

“No, wait, hang on,” Lothar stood and scratched his temple before placing his hands on his hips and facing Sandor. “Wasn’t Tormund supposed to be on her service while you took your annual vacation?”

Sandor nodded.

“Where was he?”

“Where _is_ he?” Bronn said.

“His deployment date got moved up.”

“And that fucker didn’t call in a replacement?” Lothar exclaimed.

“I believe that she told him not to. Or that she already had. Or something like that.” Sandor said, suddenly more tired. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to Tormund yet – or really even reach out to him. I know what little I do because she has said bits here and there. But I don’t think it’s his fault. I don’t blame him at all. Sansa wasn’t expecting her husband home for another two days. He took her off guard. She thought I’d be home before him.”

“Can’t really be mad at a guy who volunteers to and then willingly goes running into a war zone,” Bronn mumbled.

“No, I’m not mad at Tor,” Sandor agreed. “He’ll beat himself up enough over it when he finds out. No need to heap it on him from us.”

“That’s the truth.”

There was silence for a moment.

“FUCK!” Sandor suddenly bellowed, grabbing the nearest thing – a pillow – and slamming it against the wall.

Both Bronn and Lothar jumped. Bronn grabbed the pillow from Sandor’s hand before he had a chance to attack the floor lamp.

“Boss! Boss! What’s happened?” Lothar said, studying Sandor’s scarred face closely.

“Is it your knee?”

“I keep talking in fucking circles. That’s all I’ve been doing _for days_. Round and round and round again. First, I had to tell Arya. Then Robb. Then Poole. Then the lawyers. Now you two. This is only just the beginning! I’ll have to fucking tell the whole godsdamned story again when this case goes to trial! I just keep telling what happened, but I can’t do anything to _change_ it! And now I’m a fucking half cripple till this fucking knee gets better. That cunt cop just _had_ to kick out my bad knee on my bad leg.”

“Do you want me to get the nurse for some pain killers?”

Sandor leaned forwards and pointed a large finger at Bronn. “If _any_ one in this fucking hospital gives me _any_ thing that diminishes my mental acuity, my ability to watch out for and take care of Sansa, I’ll break both their arms so bad they’ll never work again!”

“Okay, okay,” Lothar said hastily, “nothing strong. Just a suggestion though; when you tell the doctor and nurse that, don’t threaten them. Okay? They’re innocent.”

“I won’t threaten the doctor,” Sandor said slumping in the wheelchair. “The hospital is actually trying to help us right now. And thanks very much to Good Queen Alysanne and Queen Myrcella, they _actually_ are able to help us; not just medically but legally too.”

“Then what do you want us to do?” Bronn asked. “Why are we here?”

“Rotate shifts or pick a post and stick to it – hell I don’t care. But someone always has to be sitting outside her hospital door. The other one has to be inside the room with her, resting and sleeping. But it’s gotta be on the floor or out of sight: she can’t know you’re in there. Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Same reason I asked for women security guards,” Sandor grumbled.

“Ah,” Bronn said, understanding.

“If she wakes up, if she sees you, keep your distance. If I’m not there, tell her that I had to … that I … tell her that I had an appointment I couldn’t reschedule, or some bullshit that isn’t that I am injured. Do _not_ worry her at all. Tell her that I got you two to fill in for me. Tell her that I’ll be right back. Tell her I promise I’ll be there later tonight.”

“Should we call in someone from Bear Island? Maege maybe?” Lothar wondered.

“Or Lyanna? Or Obarra?” Bronn added.

“I couldn’t get them here fast enough.” Sandor shook his head. “I’ve already thought about that.”

“Did you know they would be arresting her today?” Lother wondered.

Sandor shook his head, “No.”

“Then why call us in now?”

“She barely lets me leave her side. Robb and Arya can’t stay around as much as I can. But being at her side means I can’t keep security up.”

“Lord Bolton is dead,” Bronn reminded them, “what danger could Dr. S still be in?”

“Who the fuck knows?” Sandor growled. “All I know is that shits about to get crazy. Especially now that her arrest is public records.” Sandor began yelling, “I just need to get this fucking leg examined so I can get back to her side and figure shit out!”

“Well that fucking leg is about to be examined,” Dr. Apperford said, opening the door and stepping inside. “I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Clegane, but I’ll use words I want to use as long as you are using them too.”

“Oh, thank the Seven Heavens.” Sandor sighed, “A doctor with some fucking sense.”

Dr. Apperford laughed, “I take it you’re not a fan of them. Doctors I mean.”

Sandor motioned to his face then his leg. “I’ve been a patient too many times.”

“Then let’s get this fucking thing started.”

Sandor grinned.

“I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to Dr. Stark.”

Sandor’s face dropped and he glared but nodded, nonetheless.

“Then I suggest you ask you friends to leave because I’m going to cut off your jeans. Unless you don’t mind them seeing things they might not want to see.”

Bronn opened his mouth to make a joke, but Sandor cut him off before he had a chance to start. “They have to be getting on their way anyways. They have a job to do since I am currently not allowed to do it,” Sandor said, pointedly at them.

Lothar grinned but turned to leave. Bronn wasn’t so quick.

“Hey boss?”

“What?”

“Ygritte is back in town. You want me to give her a call?”

“I forgot she got back this week,” Sandor muttered, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, bring her in here. Sansa’s always like her a lot – and she’s a woman. That’s good, thanks Bronn.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, get Ygritte to swing by my house and pick me up a couple of pairs of clothes. Poole has a spare key at the office.”

“You know, Poole has a spare for everything – she could really fuck up our lives if we pissed her off bad enough,” Bronn remarked.

“Yeah, so don’t piss her off.”

“Jeans, socks, shorts, shirts,” Bronn ticked off as he typed in his phone, “Am I missing something?”

“Sweats and gym shorts,” Dr. Apperford said.

“Why?” Sandor asked, looking at her.

“By the way you refuse to move your lower body and keep rubbing your other uninjured thigh in a nervous tick, I can tell you’re in a lot of fucking pain. I’ll probably have to put you in a nice brace for a few days at least. And there’s no way you’re going to want to bend your leg into stiff jeans or nice suit pants, if I’m right about your pain.”

“Oh, you are, doc,” Bronn laughed.

“But don’t give him anything that will fuck with his mind,” Lothar added, “we’ll all lose our arms if you do.”

“Something to take the edge off, nothing stronger, got it.” The doctor grinned at Sandor.

“Exactly. Go on! Get out of here. Add whatever the doc suggests to my list.” Sandor shooed them. “Sansa’s been alone long enough already.”

“Yes, sir!” Bronn and Lothar said in unison, laughing. The two men left Sandor’s room with the promise of texting him regular updates and calling him if there was a more pressing issue.

Dr. Apperford pulled on gloves and picked up a pair of scissors.

“I hope these aren’t your favorite pair of jeans,” she said.

“If they were, would I have a choice?”

“You think you can take off the jeans the normal way?”

“Nope.”

“Then no, you don’t have a choice.”

“It’s a good thing I buy in bulk,” Sandor replied.

Dr. Apperford chuckled and began cutting his pant legs, starting at the cuff around his ankle and working her way up his leg to his hip. She was careful to not let the scissors touch his knee or thigh. Then, the entire pant leg was split open.

“Have you soiled your small clothes?”

“Nope.” Sandor eyed her, unsure of where she was going with that line of questioning.

“Do you want to or need to change them?”

“How hard is it going to be to get new ones on?” Sandor wondered.

“In your pain level? Not fun.”

“Leave them on. They’re clean from after my shower last night.”

“You sure?”

“Aye,” Sandor insisted. “And if I weren’t, I’ve been in far less industrialized places and have been forced to wear dirtier clothes for far longer.”

“Okay.” Dr. Apperford chuckled as she opened Sandor’s pant leg like a book and looked at his leg a moment before touching it.

“How old is your wound?” she asked, pointing to the chunk of his thigh that was missing.

“Twenty? Twenty-five years? Maybe longer?”

“Motorcycle?”

“Army.”

“Ech, that’s almost as bad.”

“Doc, did you just say ‘ech’?” Sandor asked, “As in, the sound that someone makes when they are grossed out? Should I be worried about your credentials?”

“Ech as in I can’t imagine what that was like,” she answered. Barely touching him, she slid her fingers along the healed flesh. “Any of this hurt?”

“I’ve lost most of the sensation around the scar.”

“I didn’t ask if you could feel my fingers.”

“My thigh in general is throbbing,” Sandor admitted. “It’s mostly radiating up from my knee though. But being thrown to the ground and laying on the cold floor for a while certainly didn’t help my thigh.”

“The old injury certainly is red and angry.”

“It hasn’t been this bad, this painful, in a long time.”

“I bet. And then we have the cause of the issue: your knee is fucking huge.”

“Geez doc, I can see _and_ feel that fact.” Sandor eyed Dr. Apperford carefully, “You’re not a conventional doctor, are you?”

Dr. Apperford shrugged. “I just believe that you can be less formal with patients than is taught at the Citadel, while still maintaining a professional relationship.”

“Wow. You trained at the Citadel?”

“Yeah, though I was not their favorite student, not even close. Pretty sure I was a nightmare. Anyways, I find being more personal and less medical, less cold and high-and-mighty puts patients more at ease and willing to converse honestly. And you’re a man who doesn’t take shit. I’m relieved I don’t have to censor myself around you. Sometimes it’s tiring having to be straight and prim and proper with the stuffier patients who expect a traditional doctor or maester.”

“Remind me to ask for you in the off chance I ever have to come to the hospital again.”

“Oh, please do – it makes me feel loved. I’m like a cat in that way,” she said smiling, though she never looked up at Sandor’s face. “Can I touch your knee?”

“Sure, but can I shout profanities when you hurt me?”

“Why do you think the door is shut?”

Sandor didn’t have a chance to respond.

Dr. Apperford began prodding Sandor’s knee.

He growled at first before taking a deep breath, holding it.

“Breathing actually does help with them pain,” she commented off-handedly.

Sandor’s fingers turned white from gripping the handles of the wheelchair so hard.

When Dr. Apperford pressed on his kneecap from the side, he let out a holler, and belted, “FUCK!!”

She smiled, “ah, there it is.”

Dr. Apperford leaned back and pulled off her gloves, tossing them in the trash. “I want to send you for x-rays. I hope you don’t have a fracture on your patella.”

“Are x-rays going to take a long time?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“And what happens if I have a broken patella?”

“Surgery.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pretty sure you heard me.”

“How long for recovery?”

“Depends if you follow my directions.”

“How long?”

“We’ll talk about that if we come to it.”

“Doc…”

A nurse came in carrying a sterile tray. Dr. Apperford pulled on a new pair of gloves while the nurse pulled a light over and turned it on. It was right in Sandor’s face.

“This really fucking necessary?”

“I need to check your cheek. You have a decent cut there too.”

“I forgot about that,” Sandor admitted as Dr. Apperford stood above him, tilting his head back. She leaned in close, dabbing at his cheek to clean off the drying blood. It stung though compared to his knee, Sandor could easily ignore the sensation.

“How old is this one?” she asked.

Sandor didn’t need to see what Dr. Apperford was pointing at to know what she was asking about. He kept his eyes closed and his face neutral.

“Forty years,” he finally whispered, his voice low and husky.

“Not an army burn then. Motor vehicle accident?”

Sandor swallowed. “Hot coals.”

Dr. Apperford didn’t say anything right away. “Plastic surgery not an option?”

“Poor kid from a poor family.”

“And now?”

“She’d kill me if I got rid of them.”

The doctor didn’t need to ask who ’she’ was. “But if _you_ wanted to?”

Sandor pondered this. “I guess she’d be okay with it. But I don’t really want to – I’ve gotten used to them. I don’t notice them anymore.”

“Why change at this point, huh?” she asked, rhetorically.

Sandor shrugged, wanting to change the subject. “Have you seen Dr. Stark?”

“I have not. My collogue is taking care of her.”

“Have you heard anything?”

“Security got the cops to leave.”

Sandor reached up and restrained the doctor’s wrist. She looked away from the cut on his cheek up to his eyes. His voice was low, though he did try to keep the menace to a minimum, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it, doc.”

“It got…rough for Dr. Stark.”

“Care to give me more details?”

“You need one more stitch,” she replied.

Sandor let go of her wrist but remained glaring at her until she spoke.

Doctor Apperford sighed and lowered her hands for a minute. “I got a brief update at the nurses’ station. I don’t know the details. The grapevine reports that the police were not gentle with her, Mr. Clegane. Physically or mentally. Last I heard, even Selna was having a hard time getting near enough to her to sedate her.”

“How long until I can see her?” he demanded.

“You can go see her while you wait for x-rays,” the nurse replied, “you’re not critical and radiology is backed up pretty bad right now. It’ll be a few hours at least.”

Dr. Apperford nodded her consent as she leaned back into Sandor’s face. She didn’t say anything as she tied off the thread. She applied a bandage then snapped off her gloves and said, “There, two stitches and another small scar to add to your collection of stories. Though this one is not quite as impressive as your other ones.”

She sat back and Sandor straightened up in his chair, wincing when he moved his leg. She commented, “I’m surprised you haven’t asked me about Mr. Stark or Ms. Stark.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d checked on them yet,” Sandor replied. “If you haven’t gone to see Sansa, why would you have been able to see Robb or Arya?”

“You’re right, I haven’t.”

“Mr. Stark’s nose has stopped bleeding,” the nurse answered. “Plastics has been called and will check on him soon. It’ll be a few days before the swelling goes down in his face though.”

“And Little Wolf? I mean, Arya?”

“Still unconscious,” the nurse informed him. “Otherwise she’s stable and doing okay. They’re taking her for a CT as we speak.”

Sandor nodded, “Good. Thanks for telling me, nurse. Don’t get me wrong, I’m worried about them, but they can handle themselves. They’re strong. But Sansa—"

“Is having a shit time right now,” Dr. Apperford finished for him, patting his arm, “I get it. No one is judging you, Mr. Clegane. She’s probably barely holding it together as it was and then this happened, today happened. She needs strong people like you fighting in her corner. Her siblings will be fine.”

The nurse tried to drape a blanket over Sandor, but he pushed it away.

Dr. Apperford shook her head, “No, tuck this blanket around you, Mr. Clegane, so that you don’t scandalize the young med students with your impressive scars and thigh muscles. We’ll get someone to take you over to see your Sansa in just a bit. I think we all know it’s the best thing, for both you and her.”

“Thanks doc,” Sandor said sincerely. “For everything.”

“You’re very welcome,” Dr. Apperford stood. “But I warn you, I’ll ream your fucking ass Clegane, if you don’t follow my orders to the T about this leg of yours. I couldn’t care less if you fuck it over and screw up your own life, but your Sansa needs you. I’m going to make sure you heal as best you fucking can for her.”

“Glad to hear you care,” Sandor grinned.

“Bet your sweet ass cheeks I do.” With that, Dr. Apperford and the nurse left the room. And Sandor alone with his thoughts and emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you my lovely readers for the incredible support of this story and the last chapter. I hope you don't hate me too much for all that is going on in our favorite's lives. Just know, I am working ahead and have some cute fluffy stuff coming down the pipeline...like way down the pipe. That said, you are quickly catching up with the chapters that I have written. See I have a gap between the hospital stuff and the next section of the story and I am struggling to fill in the gap. Bare with me while I struggle through this brain fart.
> 
> In the meantime, #shamelessselfpromotiontime, I have two other stories up for you to read if you need something to do:  
> [ **Flight**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22826248) in which we visit our favorite non-knight on the Quiet Isle.  
> [ **One Little Bird, Two Hounds: _The Beginning_**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23532442) in which Sansa and Sandor try to navigate a potential relationship in a complicated world.  
> You can also reach out to me on Tumblr at LittleWolfBird and drop in to say hi and chat or whatever.
> 
> As always, thank you very much for the comments and the kudos!!


	16. Results

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still recovering from the debacle that was Sansa's arrest, Sandor gets more information while Sansa struggles with reality. 7701 Words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on _Innocence_ "The Aftermath": The hospital comes to bat for Sandor, Robb, Arya and Sansa, in the aftermath of Sansa's arrest. Arya is carted away, unconscious from a head wound. Robb is pushed away in a wheelchair, his face swollen and bleeding from a broken nose. Sandor is forced to admit he's not invincible, his knee is killing him, and he meets an unlikely doctor who he doesn't hate.

“Hey boss,” Lothar said when Sandor approached him, pushed in his wheelchair by a hospital attendant.

“Any word?” he asked. “My phone has been silent.”

“She was sedated when we got here,” Lothar replied. “Hasn’t made a peep. Bronn’s inside with her.”

“Doctors say anything?”

Lothar shook his head, “no, they won’t tell us anything other than she’ll be out for a while.”

Sandor nodded. Lothar held open the door for him.

“I’ve got it from here,” Sandor told the attendant. “I’ll be right here until my x-rays.”

“Let us know if you need anything,” was the response.

Sandor awkwardly rolled himself into the room. It had been a long time since he had been in a chair. He was bound to one for nearly a year when he lost the chunk of his thigh. Sandor couldn’t help but pause and smile while his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. He had not only organized but won many races against other injured soldiers and vets in the hospital. Some refused to participate. They thought they couldn’t have fun or be happy and make the most of the situation. But not Sandor. He had learned when he was a child that wallowing in the misery only made one a grumpy and drunk jack ass.

Sandor swallowed and looked up at Sansa’s limp frame. She breathed slowly and consistently. Oxygen tubes snaked out of her nose and she had more monitor sticky pads on her chest. A sensor clip encased one of her pointer fingers. Her brilliant red hair fanned around her head; standing in stark contrast to the white of the pillowcases. She looked almost peaceful in that moment.

No, after Sandor had gotten injured the army, the second time he had been called up, he didn’t want to remain the person that he had been for so much of his life. There had been a young woman that showed him a better way. One with calmness and kindness. He had tried so hard to scare her, to teach her. But in the end, despite how much she insisted that she had used Sandor’s words of advice to protect herself after he left, it she who had taught _him_ something. It was she who had scared _him_ into being a different man, a better man.

That was why after his recovery, Sandor had moved north. That was why he had bounced around jobs while he searched for her. His recovery program insisted that he needed to make amends and apologize to those he had hurt. Sandor had already reconnected with his sister and they were building a strong relationship together. The only person that ate at his conscious was the fiery haired and spirited Sansa Stark. When he found her, he followed her in the news as she continued to rebuild the North that had suffered so badly during the civil war. He was one of the first to apply to her company when she opened the security department. And through the years, he was never able to apologize like he should have. Instead, he chose his actions. He had always been better at actions than words.

Perhaps, that was why she had chosen him as her bodyguard. Perhaps she saw how much he tried to make up for everything he’d said to her and allowed to happen to her. Sandor knew, as he rolled close to the bed and took Sansa’s hand, he knew that he would never feel as though he had paid his penance for his behavior. He would spend the rest of his days trying to feel worthy of the forgiveness that Sansa had given him long before he knew and only a short time after he had left her alone to fend for herself in King’s Landing.

“You alright there, boss?” Bronn said softly from the chair in the corner, in the shadows.

“Aye,” Sandor replied.

“What’s the word on your knee?”

“Nothing definitive yet. I’ve got x-rays here in a little bit that will tell me more.”

“Could be serious then.”

“Aye.”

“We’ll be here as long as you need us to be.”

“Have you heard from Ygritte?”

“Yeah,” Bronn replied, not offended at Sandor’s dismissal of friendship and comfort. Bronn was a soldier like Sandor; they’d actually briefly met on a mission. He understood that showing emotion was hard and frowned upon. Sandor was already showing so much more than he wanted.

“What’d she say?”

“She’s checking in with Poole and getting things situation at the office. Then she’s heading to your house. She’ll be here this afternoon or this evening.”

“And she’s got no other prior engagements?”

Bronn looked at Sandor for a moment.

Sandor sighed, “What is it Blackwater? Spit it out.”

There was little bite to the bark.

“She just got back from the assignment you and Dr. S sent her on. Her next _engagement_ is wherever you assign her. I didn’t say it like this, but she’s like me and Lothar, and any of the other guys who work for you: Sandor, Dr. S’s safety and recovery are what we are all focused on. She’s here to do what she needs to. Because it’s her job. And because she cares.”

“Right, sorry,” Sandor rubbed his face, wincing when he scraped his stitches.

“You’re stretched thin, it’s okay.”

Sandor nodded.

“I spoke with Edd.”

Sandor looked at Bronn, waiting for him to continue. Edd was next in line after Sandor.

“He said that he has done everything you said in the email to him.” It was clear by Bronn’s tone that Edd had not told him _what_ had been done or what had been in the email. Bronn was a curious fellow and like to know everything. “He’s also handling the things that he has access to that you normally deal with yourself. The only things he doesn’t have access to are the greater picture of the whole company and Dr. S’s file.”

Sandor nodded.

“Edd also said that he’d give you a call in the morning to check in and see what else he can help with.”

Sandor nodded again.

A light knock came on the door frame. Lothar called out softly, “Hey, boss? It’s your attendant from earlier.”

Sandor nodded.

“Let him in,” Bronn answered for him.

The attendant came in and spoke quietly, respectfully, reading the room, “Mr. Clegane, we can take you to radiology now. Dr. Apperford would like to see the results of your knee sooner rather than later.”

Sandor took a deep breath. He rubbed the back of Sansa’s hand, careful of the IV. He leaned forward and smoothed down her hair. He whispered, “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Little Bird, I promise. You aren’t alone though. Bronn is here to look after you. Lothar is outside. No one is coming in unless you or I say so. Rest well,” before nodding and sitting back.

The attendant moved around to behind Sandor and pushed him away from the bed. Sandor held out his cellphone to Bronn. The attendant paused.

“Answer anything that comes in, email, text, or phone,” he instructed as Bronn took the device in his hand.

“Sure.”

“1312 is the passcode.”

“That’s not very secure,” Bronn teased, unable to help himself.

“It’s never further than an arm’s length away from me.”

“I get it,” Bronn grinned, “I just find it funny that the head of security has such a lax code to get into his phone. Irony I’d say.”

“Shut up.” Sandor mumbled.

“Nope,” Bronn said, grinning.

“Oh!” Sandor looked up suddenly. “’Remember the night the Blackwater burned.’”

Bronn raised an eyebrow, “come again?”

“Tell her that if she’s unsure,” was all the explanation that Sandor gave him before indicating to the attendant to continue on.

When Sansa opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was that this was not the hospital room she was used to. The window was on the wrong wall. The sun was coming in at the wrong angle. There weren’t black-out curtains to prevent the sun from streaming in. The wrong color paint was on the walls and the blanket that covered her was a pale salmon pink instead of the light pine green. Then she noticed that no one sat on either side of her. That was when the panic started to filter in.

“Sandor?” she called out hoarsely, coughing. Her throat was raw and dry. “Sandor?”

When no response came, the tears soon fell. She tried to find the call remote on the side of the bed, but her hands were shaking too much.

“Sandor?”

“Sansa.”

Her head whipped around to the chair in the corner. It wasn’t Sandor sitting there. A thinner, shorter man with dark brown hair didn’t move, with brown eyes...

 _It can’t be,_ she thought, bile and fear rising in her throat. _He’s dead. I_ killed _him._

“Dr. S – I mean, Sansa, it’s me, Bronn Blackwater, from security? I’m going to stand up and move into the light so you can see me properly.”

Bronn did exactly as he said he would. He remained far from the bed. The fear that had suddenly gripped her heart drained away but panic coursed strong in her veins.

“Do you remember me?” he asked cautiously.

Sansa nodded – at least she thought she did. Her eyes were still wide. Her heart was beating so loud that its rhythm muffled Bronn’s voice. She bit her lip, concentrating on his to understand him – trying to suppress the scream she wanted to let out.

“I’m in here with you, to keep you company and to keep you safe. Lothar Brune is outside the door, standing watch. Only doctors and those approved by you or Clegane can come in.”

“Sandor?” she asked again, hope fighting the panic within at the sound of his name.

“No, he’s not here right now.”

Sansa’s brow furled as she tried to understand the statement. She swallowed and licked her lips a few times. _Not here?_ “He…Sandor…left me?” she whispered, her chin shaking, and her breath quickening.

“Oh!” Bronn realized his mistake and shook his head vigorously. “No, Dr. S. He didn’t leave you. That’s why I’m here.”

“But he’s gone…”

“He had to be. But just for a little bit. Doctor’s orders.”

“My doctor?”

“No, his doctor. He’s getting his knee looked at.”

Sansa cocked her head to the side, “Why?”

Bronn paused, “What do you remember, Dr. S.?”

Sansa closed her eyes and tried to think back to the last time she saw Sandor. She saw his imposing height, that always made her feel safe. She saw his impressive physique; all muscle that filled him out more than most professional athletes. She saw his shaggy hair and the burned half of his face. She saw his half smile, the one she had only ever seen him flash at her.

Then it came to her.

Sandor was on his chest; his face being pushed into the tile by a cop kneeling on his back. Why was he on the ground? She heard herself screaming his name; kicking and fighting despite the pain she was in. Who was dragging her? They were pulling her away despite her protests. Why were they taking her away from Sandor? He was screaming back at her. Why was there a cop on him? His voice echoed in her head, _stay strong for me, hold on._

“What did they do to him?” she asked Bronn suddenly, her eyes snapping open.

He hesitated.

“Tell me!” she shouted.

“He was going after you.” Bronn said hastily.

Sansa’s voice was no more than a whisper when she asked, “What happened to my Sandor?

“The cops made him fall on his bad leg.”

Sansa inhaled sharply but she couldn’t get any air.

Bronn continued, “It did something to his knee. A doc was looking at him. Then he was in here for a little while, but he had to go for x-ray’s, and he’ll come back for you. He’ll be back Dr. S., right after his knee gets x-rayed.”

Sansa’s eyed Bronn still wearily. If what he said was true, then Sandor would be back. Sansa knew this. But what if he was lying? What if he was one of… _his_ people? Sandor could be somewhere else and not ever be coming back. This man, Bronn, could do anything he wanted to her and she’d be helpless to stop him. Sansa’s breath quickened as she tried to determine the truth.

“Remember the night the Blackwater burned.”

Sansa snapped out of the spiral and gaped at the man in her room. How did he…? Where had he…? Was—

“Dr. S.?” Bronn said.

Sansa looked at him, focusing on him now, eyes wide.

“Fuck if I know what it means, but Clegane told me to tell you: ‘Remember the night the Blackwater burned.’”

Sansa’s chin quivered and the tears leaved from one eye. She nodded.

“I can step out of the room, Dr. S., if you’d feel more comfortable with that,” Bronn offered.

Sansa shook her head. It took her a moment to find her voice. “Sandor trusts you.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, he does.”

Sansa nodded, worrying her lip. “I don’t, I don’t want to be alone.”

“You don’t exactly look okay with me though.”

Sansa squeezed her eyes shut, the tears leaking out.

It wasn’t Bronn. Well it was, but it wasn’t. She _knew_ she could trust him, especially if Sandor had asked for him specifically. Especially if Sandor had told him to tell her _that_. And yet…an uneasy feeling still gripped her. She needed Sandor to be back, then she’d be okay. But if he couldn’t be there, then Bronn would have to do, right? Sandor trusted him…

“Can you sit where I can see you?” she whispered.

“Where?”

“The window?” she proposed. Her voice was shaky, watery.

“Sure,” Bronn said, pulling around a chair to sit in front of the window.

Sansa sniffled and tried to wipe the tears from her face, but they wouldn’t stop. “Gods I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Bronn insisted. “Can I call the nurse for you?”

“No, I don’t want anything. Just Sandor.”

“Okay,” Bronn fell silent.

Sansa closed her eyes. She thought she heard someone move about the room, but she had no energy to open her eyes. She suddenly didn’t care who it was or what they did to her. Everything bad kept happening to her. What would be one more thing? She could survive that, if she had Sandor around. The someone left the room and Sansa felt a coldness course through her veins. Panic gripped her heart.

 _Poison_.

“What’s happening to me?” she wondered. “Get it away from me!”

“Just a little medication,” Bronn responded softly. “That was your nurse just a minute ago.”

“Nooo,” she moaned. The coldness enveloped her. She was drowning in it. “If I’ll wake up, just kill me, please.”

“It’s not a sedative, Dr. S.” Bronn insisted.

“Just kill me,” she cried.

“I can’t do that; Dr. S., Sandor gave me strict orders to keep you alive. Your vitals are out of whack – especially your heart. It’s only painkillers for your ribs and some meds to slow down your heart.”

Sansa cried harder. She wanted to curl up into a ball but moving hurt too much. She just had to lay there on her back, wishing for some reprieve from the nightmare. But never had she lucked out enough to catch a break from fate.

First, her dad…and she had _seen_ what happened to her dad; she had _watched_ it happen. Then it was college with Joffrey and everything that he had put her through. Then, it was her mom – though she’d been spared the memory, Joffrey had gloated about it for weeks to her, describing the scene how his people had described it to him. Then Sansa got out and moved to the Vale. Things started to turn around, and they were looking for the better. Until she married Ra…her husband. And everything after that sank further and faster than it ever had before. Everything was spiraling out of control. Nothing was slowing it; nothing was stopping—

“Little Bird.”

Sansa opened her eyes and snapped her head around to see Sandor on the other side of her bed from Bronn. More tears sprung to her eyes. He was there! He was already sitting but he was there. She reached for him. But Sandor didn’t stand up. He only met her hand with both of his, holding her tight and leaning forwards in the chair.

“They were taking me away,” she sobbed, “and I couldn’t see you anymore. They told me that you’d never be able to be with me again. That I was going away forever. They said everything was lost. They said I’d live in a stone box for the rest of my life. And that they’d make sure you would never be able to visit. I thought that I’d never see you again!”

“Hey, hey, hey. Shh, shh, no, don’t listen to them, Little Bird. Ignore the lies.”

“You’re here!” she wailed.

“Aye, I’m here, Little Bird,” he cooed, rubbing her hand, her arm. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Sansa sobbed harder but still, Sandor didn’t stand up. Why wouldn’t he stand up? Why wouldn’t he hold her?

“Did they tell you that you can’t hold me?” she wondered, her lip quivering and threatening to cry harder.

“No, Little Bird,” Sandor said softly, “I promise, no one has said any such thing. I want to hold you, I do. But I can’t stand up right though.”

“Why?” she sniffled. The motion of his callused hands stroking her battered and bruised skin had a calming effect on her.

“I’m in only my shorts right now,” Sandor explained, smiling.

“Why?” Sansa couldn’t help but almost smile back, because of the twinkle in his eye.

“Because they hurt my knee. Dr. Apperford had to cut off my jeans – she was the one who took care of you in the ER. My leg is huge and painful. It’ll be a few days before I can put on real pants. Besides, Doc won’t let me stand or move too much until after they get my x-ray results.”

“Are you just prancing around the hospital in your shorts?” Sansa’s cheek twitched as she tried to smile. “How will the doctors and nurses ever get any work done?”

“Ah, I see you can still tease me, and I’m glad, though I don’t know how much prancing I’m doing,” Sandor leaned forwards and poked Sansa’s nose.

She couldn’t help but beam at that.

“But no, I have a blanket on my lap silly. No one can see these good-lookin’ legs.”

“Not even a special someone?”

“Well,” he paused, dragging out the word, “there is one woman, but she doesn’t know it yet. At some point she’ll realize she’s special and maybe someday she’ll get to see me prancing around in only my shorts.”

“She’s a lucky lady,” Sansa sighed. “I’m happy for you.”

Sandor didn’t answer her.

“I was worried you’d never come back,” Sansa said absently, unaware of Sandor’s pursed lips. Her eyelids were closing halfway, watching Sandor’s hand.

“I always come back. Don’t I?”

“Sure, I suppose. But I don’t like it when you’re gone.”

“I’m never gone for long.”

“I wish you could hold me.”

Sandor sighed but gave her hand an extra squeeze, “I know. I do too. Not right now though, but soon. I promise. Hold my hands instead, love. I’m not going anywhere until ordered to by Dr. Apperford.”

“If she does, then I want to come with you, wherever you go.”

Sandor smiled at her. “You’ll probably have to stay here. Bronn won’t leave the room if that’s the case.”

“Bronn help me,” Sansa suddenly declared.

Bronn stood, though he looked like he didn’t know what he was helping her with.

She tried to roll on her side, but she whimpered every time she tightened her abdomen to move. All she wanted to do was to inch her way to the edge of the bed, closer to Sandor.

“Boss?” Bronn asked.

“Help her move. Shoulder, hip,” Sandor instructed Bronn. Sandor kept his eyes locked on Sansa’s the whole time.

She tensed for a moment, a small yelp escaping her lips, when she felt the hands on her – they were smaller than Sandor’s – but Sandor squeezed her wrist, reminding her that it was okay. He pulled and Bronn pushed, and Sansa was slid quickly to where she wanted to be. Then the hands on her were gone.

With her new vantage point, Sansa could see exactly what he had been talking about. Sandor was sitting in a wheelchair, alongside the bed. His left leg was propped up. All she could see was his black sock. A cream-colored hospital blanket covered his leg and his lap.

Sansa moved her head close to the edge and Sandor leaned in. Sansa gasped now that she could properly see Sandor. He brushed her long bangs out of her eyes.

“You’re face,” she whispered, holding out a hand to touch Sandor’s cheek below the stitches.

“It’s always been burned, love.”

She smiled, “you know what I mean.”

“Aye, but it’ll be just a tiny scar compared to the other side.”

“Do you hurt?”

“No, my face doesn’t hurt. They gave me a lidocaine shot before sewing me up. In the army, we didn’t always have lidocaine. So, I’m feeling pretty damn peachy right now.”

Sansa looked down at his leg. She could tell where his knee was. It was big and round, almost bulbous. She frowned, “What about your knee, Sandor? Does it hurt?”

“Only when I put weight on my leg.”

“That’s why the doctor doesn’t want you to hold me?”

“She doesn’t care whether or not I hold you; she just doesn’t want me to jostle it. Getting up from the chair, into bed, and back again poses too much risk.”

“Then,” Sansa tried to put on a brave face, “this is okay right now.”

“I’m glad you agree. Dr. Apperford declared no moving after I had to take a piss earlier and, well fuck did that hurt,” Sandor grimaced at the memory. “I had two attendants holding me up to balance me just so I could hold my…you know.”

Sansa felt herself turn red, though she hoped it was only pink.

“Can I see it?”

Sandor raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“Can I see it?”

“You want to see my…” Sandor glanced down at his lap and back at her face, raising his good eyebrow. “…my penis?”

Sansa’s eyes grew wide and she was sure she was sunrise red now. “No! I mean, no! Oh Gods that’s not what I meant! No! I meant your _knee_!”

Sandor barked a laugh. It shook his shoulders as he threw his head back. When he caught his breath, he shook his head and said, “Sure, sure you did, Little Bird, sure you did.”

“No! I did!”

“I told you, love, only my future special woman will see these legs…and my penis… when the time is right.”

Sansa flushed an even darker shade of red, if that were even possible.

“ _Sandor,”_ she groaned with an exasperated sigh. Sansa shook her head, trying to regain control of her composure. “But why is your knee so big?”

“They gently wrapped it to keep me from moving it and then they covered it in ice to help with the pain and swelling,” Sandor explained, giving her a break. “I can only feel the ice a little bit, through all of the bandaging. But my knee is _beautifully_ swollen. Kinda gross really.”

“That’s why I wanted to see it…” she whispered.

“Oh!” realization hit Sandor. “Of course! I forgot you are not squeamish and don’t mind looking at really gross things.”

Sansa tried to shrug, though it didn’t work very well. “Over the years I’ve had to see a lot of gross things.”

“I know,” Sandor said suddenly sad. “No more, yeah?”

“Sure,” she said noncommittedly.

“Sansa...” he began but she interrupted him.

“But speaking of gross things, how’s your old injury?” she asked, looking at his covered thigh and pointing. “You’re hurt all on the same leg.”

“Yeah, that cunt cop chose his target brilliantly. It throbs,” he admitted. “I’ll probably have my limp back for a while, even if nothing major is wrong with my knee.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Not especially. Every time I’ve strained it though, – which isn’t often, mind you – it has taken a few weeks for the limp to go away.”

“I remember now,” Sansa said. Then she broke out in a wide smile. “Sandor, do you remember that one time you did something to your thigh when you were rolling down a hill, playing with your nieces?”

“Aye, I do,” Sandor said bitterly. “That was the first time my little sister had ever called me old.”

“You’re not that old,” Sansa reassured him. This time she was the one to pat his arm. “You need to get someone else to guard me, though, while you heal.”

“I told you, Little Bird: I’m not leaving your side,”

“But you’re hurt!”

“So are you, love. And I promised you that I wasn’t leaving so I’m not.”

“Then _add_ someone besides yourself!” Sansa exclaimed. She could feel herself getting worked up though she didn’t understand why she was suddenly unable to keep her emotions in check. It had never been that way _before_. “Sandor, I _won’t_ have you trying to do your job while you are so severely injured. You won’t heal right.”

“I’ll heal fine.”

“If you won’t do it for you, do it for me!” she threw his words from the other day back at him, “If you try to do your job while injured, you won’t heal as fast as I need you too. What if you don’t heal at all? What if you can’t ever work again? I need you whole. I need you to be back to your normal self.”

“Sansa…” he groaned.

She could see it in his eyes. She had won. Though knowing it was petty and doing it anyways for good measure, Sansa added, “Medical leave _is_ a thing, Sandor.”

Sandor rolled his eyes, “I have only ever had to take leave when I was in the army and got a chunk of my leg taken out!”

“So take it again! Damnit Sandor!” her voice rising, “There’s nothing wrong with taking a breather. I have to!”

“Aye,” he whispered.

“If you don’t take the leave from me,” she was rambling now and she didn’t know how to stop, “I’ll fire you and no one is going to hire a bodyguard with a bum knee.”

There. She said it and promptly snapped her mouth shut. Sansa bit her lip as he watched his eyes search her face. She was serious and he knew it.

“Well then, Little Bird, we will just have to take leave together, yeah?” Sandor asked, his voice unsure.

Sansa eyed him critically. She wasn’t sure if he was placating her, like he had done on rare occasions when they were younger, or if he actually intended to do as he said.

Sandor gave her a little squeeze. “You’ll be there anyway, so why don’t we have one big, long medical leave sleepover at my house. What do you say, love? Will you take medical leave with me?”

Sansa beamed, her heart tons lighter, “I’d love to Sandor.”

“When it gets closer to us breaking out of this joint, we’ll start to discuss who will fill in for me, as your bodyguard.”

“And Head of Security too,” she reminded him.

Sandor shook his head, “I can do that stuff from home.”

“Medical _leave_ means to _leave_ work.”

Sandor shrugged, “I’ve been doing a lot of it remotely for a while now. But tell you what, I’ll continue overseeing things, but I’ll delegate more. Edd can pick up most of the slack and we will find people as necessary.”

“I can accept that if I’m allowed to work from home too.”

“Wouldn’t dream of stopping you,” Sandor smiled. “We’ll just have to remember to pace ourselves, or Jenye will have our hides.”

Sansa laughed, “yeah, she’s nearly the true boss at this point.”

“Hey boss?” Bronn asked then, clearing his throat, interrupting.

It caused Sansa to jump; she had forgotten that he was still in the room.

Bronn stood and walked to the foot of Sansa’s hospital bed to be plainly visible to her. He looked at Sandor, “You mind if I go get dinner and then relieve Lothar so he can eat? Don’t think you need me around right now. And Lothar is still outside the door.”

“That’s fine,” Sansa and Sandor said at the same time.

There was a moment of silence when the two of them froze. Then they burst out laughing together.

“So strange,” Bronn mumbled to himself as he left, “to have _both_ bosses in the same place.”

The tears came as her laughter continued before immediately turning to pain. She gasped and opened her eyes wide.

Sandor stopped laughing and leaned forwards as much as he could. “Little Bird?”

“It hurts,” she complained.

“What does?”

“My stomach, I can’t laugh like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Sandor said seriously though he was still trying to reign in his amusement. “I am so sorry for helping you have a good time.”

Sansa shook her head, rolling her eyes, but smiled, nonetheless.

Sandor wiped her tears with his finger. “Is the pain really that bad?”

“A bit.”

“Can I ring the nurse for you?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“What if they put me to sleep and the cops come and take me away!”

“That’s not going to happen, Sansa.”

“How do you know! You didn’t know they were going to take me away earlier!”

Sandor sighed. He cupped her cheek, the one fully covered in gauze where the glass had penetrated the deepest. “Sansa-love, I can assure you that they are not going to take you away. Not today and not tomorrow.”

“How?” she hummed. “How can you know that?”

“For one, the lawyers saw everything. They’re doing everything in their power to make a successful appeal against the arrest warrant. They have a good case too; the way you were treated was wrong on many levels. They’ll prove that it was even illegal.”

“Can they really stop them from taking me in the meantime though?”

“Perhaps they can’t,” Sandor explained, “but the hospital lawyers can. Dr. Apperford had Detective Whitehall, and every other officer who was involved today, banned from the hospital and its premises. She’s pissed on our behalf. Those fuckers aren’t coming anywhere near you until you’re released from the hospital. And by the time that happens, because it looks like it might be a while,” Sandor smiled sadly, “the lawyers will have had time to work their magic. I promise that when you are released, you will be coming home with me.”

Sansa nodded, tucking her hand over his, holding it to her face. She used their hands to cushion her face. She didn’t feel any better, or any more confident. But Sandor was sure. She just had to trust him, like she always did. He’d protect her, like he always did. He’d fight for her no matter what…

His words came back to her. _I’m coming Sansa! be right there! I’m not giving up on you!_ He had sounded as panicked as she had felt. The agony in his voice, matched everything inside of her. _Sansa!_ _I’ll be fine! Stay strong for me, Little Bird!_ She had instinctually always trusted him. If Sandor said things would be alright, she could believe him even though everything else told her that it was hopeless. She could do as he said. _Hold on for me, Sansa! You won’t be alone for long! I promise! I lo—_

Sandor’s phone ringing stunned Sansa back into reality, into the present. She let out a squeak, but then Sandor’s other hand was on her other cheek.

“Hey, hey, it’s just my phone,” he insisted. “Everything’s okay, love.”

Sansa gulped and nodded, closing her eyes as Sandor pulled back his hand. The sudden sensation of cool air on her cheek was unwelcome.

Sandor lifted the phone to his ear without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Sandor!” the voice exclaimed loud enough that Sandor immediately pulled the phone away from his ear in reflex. It was Jeyne Westerling-Stark, Sansa’s good-sister. “Sandor! Thank the Gods!”

“Hi Jey,” Sandor replied when he was sure his eardrum would be safe.

Sansa opened her eyes and looked at him, quizzically.

 _Not Poole_ , he mouthed. To Jey, he said, “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been calling and calling and calling and I can’t get through to anyone! I don’t know why I didn’t think of you sooner. I probably should have called you right away! The Seven know you always answer when I call. Unlike my _husband_ who has been ignoring my calls for the last couple of hours! I mean, so much has happened, and no one is _answering their phone!_ ”

“Jey?”

“I’ve been pacing around the balcony because I’m afraid to let Bender see me like this and he’ll be home any time now.”

“Jey?”

“I’m such a wreck Sandor. I mean, I probably shouldn’t tell you that. You are _technically_ just a hired hand but that’s not true, is it?”

“Jey?”

“You’re all but family at this point. You and Sansa are as thick as thieves more often than not. You two are just the cutest.”

“Jey!”

“What?” she stopped rambling and took a deep breath.

“Hang on a moment, Jey. Give me a minute and then I can talk.” Sandor gave Sansa’s hand a comforting squeeze when he saw that she was watching his every move. “It’s your sister-by-law. She’s just checking up on you. And she’s rambling, asking a bunch of questions. I’ll be just in the hallway if you need me. Is that okay?”

“You’ll come back?” she whispered.

“Of course. I’ll be gone for only a few minutes. Just shout if you need me or anything.”

Sansa finally nodded. Her eyes were becoming hazy from the latest round of light relaxants that auto dripped into her IV.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered as he kissed her knuckles. Sandor put his phone on his lap rolled himself into the hall. He pointed his head from Lothar to the door. The man understood and closed it behind Sandor.

Sandor didn’t roll very far before he picked the phone back up and held it to his ear.

“—sick! I haven’t heard from anyone and Robb isn’t answering. Neither is Arya! I haven’t even bothered with Sansa’s because I know that it was ruined the other night though I am at a point where, if you hadn’t picked up, I would have tried it just because!” Jeyne was ranting loudly. “I have half a mind to march down to—"

“Jey! Jey, I’m here. Stop for a second. Just stop.”

“Sandor,” she said, taking another deep breath. “What in the Seven _Hells_ is going on!”

“I had to leave Sansa’s room just now. I didn’t want her to hear what I’m saying. I don’t want to remind her any more than I have to.”

“No, no, not about that. What is happening with everything else?”

“Okay. Start from the beginning. I don’t know what you’re referencing.”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” she scolded.

Sandor was about to defend himself, but Jey cut him off before he even had a chance.

“Sandor, I just heard on the radio about an hour ago! I can’t believe it! It’s not true, is it?”

“Heard what? Jey, I honestly haven’t been very plugged in, these past few days.”

“It’s all the radio and now the news are talking about! That Sansa’s been arrested! Is it true? Please tell me this is some sick joke.”

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That I was hoping the situation could elude the media’s attention for another few days.”

“But it’s some crazy joke, right? Sansa? Arrested! That’s hilarious.”

Sandor closed and rubbed his eyes. They almost burned with exhaustion. “No, Jey, it’s not a joke. Sansa has been arrested.”

“But Robb told me that it was self-defense! She had to protect herself!”

“Ah, so he’s told you what happened?”

“Of course, he did! I’m his wife!”

“I just had to be sure,” Sandor defended himself. “I’m not trying to insinuate anything. We are just trying to keep this as under wraps as possible. That’s why I’m disheartened by the media having the story already.”

“You wanted to keep it from _me?_ ”

“No Jey! Of course not! I’m glad he told you. I just didn’t necessarily want to have to be the one to _tell_ you. I’ve had to tell so many people already, and now I’ll have to testify too…” Sandor insisted though it ended up in a long sigh of exasperation, “But Robb is right, Jey; it was self-defense. Sansa had no choice. It was him or her.”

There was silence for a moment. Jey’s voice was so soft all of a sudden that Sandor almost couldn’t hear her. “ _You_ were the one that found her Sandor?”

Sandor swallowed hard. He looked at the ceiling and ground his teeth before closing his eyes and saying, “Yeah, it was me.”

“Stranger help us all!” Jey swore. “I don’t understand though Sandor. Why are they arresting her if she had to defend herself?”

“The D.A. and the police just don’t want to believe that it was self-defense.”

“Father, Mother, and Warrior, this is bad.”

“Aye, very.”

The line was silent for a moment.

“So then where is my husband, Sandor?” Jey asked.

“Something’s happened. He—”

“Oh Gods,” Jey whimpered. “If you say something more, something I’m hoping you won’t say, something I fear with all my life, I may feint.”

“Jey, please just sit down and let me explain what’s going on.”

“Oh Gods,” she repeated. “Okay, I’m sitting.”

“When the police arrested Sansa, they threw Arya to the floor, kicked out my bad leg, and elbowed Robb in the face.”

“Oh Gods…”

“We’re okay, for the most part,” Sandor stressed.

“It doesn’t sound like it.”

“Well, I’ve had my imaging.”

“And?”

“I don’t have the results yet. But the doctor hopes that it’s not a fractured patella. If it is, I’ll have surgery in the next couple of days to clean up my knee.”

“Sandor…”

“Hey, don’t sound so upset for me, Jey,” Sandor insisted. “I’ll be fine.”

“And Arya?”

“She’s unconscious. She hit her head pretty hard and lost some blood from the cut.”

“She wasn’t going to do anything stupid, was she?”

Sandor couldn’t help but chuckle. If he were in Jey’s position, that would be his question too. “No, none of us were. We were just protesting how the cops were treating Sansa.”

“But Arya’s okay?”

“The doctor says she’s stable and they’re monitoring her. She’s going through so many tests right now that they’ll just come talk to us when everything is done instead of telling us results as they come in.”

“Just tell me if she needs anything. Or you too. I can stress bake or cook if you need to. I can knit too. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, Jey. I think we’re okay at the moment.”

“And Robb?” she wondered. “You said they _elbowed_ my husband?”

“Aye, in the nose. He’s got a nasty break,” Jey let out a squeak and muffled a cry, “and his face is pretty swollen. It sounds like it took a while to get his nose to stop bleeding but he’s okay.”

“That doesn’t sound very okay!”

“Jey, he’s not in a state like Arya and he’s not bound to a wheelchair like me right now. I’d say he’s doing pretty good. He’s conscious and talking. He’ll be in to see Sansa in a bit.”

“Where is he now?”

“Off talking with the plastic surgeon.”

“I’m sorry, who!?” she gasped.

“The plastic Surgeon. I don’t know why or what for. I haven’t seen him since the arrest. They took him to another room to talk and examine him privately.”

“Godsdamn it,” Sandor heard Jey mutter. A door opened and closed. “Bara! I have to go meet Robb. Can you wait here for Bender? …. Yeah, just let him do his normal after school things. Snack and homework, then he can play video games or meet up with his friends! … If I’m not home, that is. Just tell him I had a meeting with his father.” Keys jangled “… Yeah, I’ll call if things changed. … Oh, sure, thanks so much. Okay, I’m gone!”

Sandor heard her car start. “Jey, what are you doing?”

“I’m coming to the fucking hospital Sandor! What do you think I’m doing? My husband has been injured and his family has been attacked by _police_ while _arresting_ his sister! Why didn’t anyone call me!”

“I didn’t think of it because I’ve been focused on my tests. I can’t speak for Robb.”

“Has he been ignoring my calls? I’ve called him a dozen times in the past hour!”

“He’s probably in a hospital gown. His phone is probably with his belongings.”

“This is such a nightmare,” she muttered.

“Jey, get off the phone, concentrate on driving. Be safe. Text me when you get here and I’ll let you know what floor we’re on, or where Robb is if he’s in a different location.”

“And you’re taking care of Sansa?” Jey suddenly asked.

“Of course, I am.”

“Gods, I’m sorry, Sandor. I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t. I’m sorry.”

“No harm done, Jey. Drive safe.” Sandor hung up the phone before she could say anything else.

Dr. Apperford appeared at that moment. “Rough call?”

“Sansa’s good-sister.”

“Ah.”

“She’s on her way.”

“The lot of you could use some mothering,” she commented offhand. “I have the results of your scans.”

“Can we talk about them inside?” Sandor asked.

“Sure.” Dr. Apperford handed him the large envelope and took up position behind him.

Lothar opened the door and closed it again once they were inside.

The sun was starting to dip in the sky. It cast long shadows in the room. Sansa was asleep, in very close to the same position she had been in when Sandor left. As if reading his mind, Dr. Apperford positioned him next to her and took the envelope from his hands. She turned on the lightbox and pulled the scan images out of the sleeve and stuck them on the wall. She pulled up a rolling stool and sat down.

“How are you feeling?”

“Thick,” Sandor answered truthfully as he entwined his finger’s with Sansa’s.

Dr. Apperford smiled, “that’s one way of calling it.”

“What’s the result, doc?”

“You do have a fractured patella,” she said, holding his gaze. “It’s not bad,” she pointed to the x-ray. “It could be a lot worse. You’re relatively young,”

“Thanks,” he grumbled.

“And healthy. Your surgery won’t take very long – about three hours or so.”

Sandor took a deep breath through his nose. He looked at Sansa when he asked, “How long am I going to be out of commission?”

“Months,” she answered truthfully. “But if you follow the instructions like they’re written, you could be up and walking in a month. Six weeks at most.”

When Sandor exhaled, his breath was shaky. “If that’s what absolutely has to happen.”

“It’s your best course of action,” Dr. Apperford replied. “You could try to see if it heals on its own – that is an option. But I highly recommend against it. You’re looking at being chair bound for a lot longer. It extends the recovery time significantly.”

“Then surgery it is,” Sandor sighed. “When can we schedule it?”

“I have it booked tomorrow afternoon.”

Sandor nodded, thinking.

“What else is on your mind?” she asked kindly.

“Is it possible to have the four of us – Arya, Robb, Sansa, and myself – in rooms near each other?”

“Yes and no.”

“That’s not an answer, doc.”

“Robb will only stay the night tonight. He’s free to go home in the morning.”

“That’s a relief to hear.”

“Later tonight we will move you and Dr. Stark into a double room, back in her old ward. It is very unorthodox. And it took a lot of convincing to the board to OK having a man – you – and a woman – Sansa – in the same room. Upon appeals from me and her doctors, we were able to convince them that it is not only in Dr. Stark’s best interest, but yours too. I _might_ have implied that you probably would insist sleeping in a wheelchair at her bedside if you were not given a bed in her room. They agreed that, and rightfully so, that with your injury and impending surgery, that arrangement is not in _your_ best interest either.”

“And Arya?”

“That’s…” Dr. Apperford chose her words carefully, “that’s the not good news.”

“Just spit it out,” he rumbled. This voiced caused Sansa to stir but she didn’t wake.

Dr. Apperford watched Sansa closely as she said, “Ms. Stark is…has had significant brain swelling. Think of her brain like your knee. With an abundance of caution, she has been put in a medically induced coma to give her body the time it needs to heal enough where waking won’t cause lasting problems.”

“A _coma_?” Sandor could hardly believe it.

“Yes. A medically induced one. When the pressure starts to subside in her skull, we will ease her off the medications and then we wait to see when she wakes up.”

“But she will wake up?”

“We currently have to reason to believe otherwise.”

“Bloody Hells…”

“I’ll leave you to that unfortunate news. And I’ll have the reception desk send …”

“Jey, Jey Stark,” Sandor said, his voice thick.

“I’ll have them send her up here when she arrives. And I’ll have Lord Stark brought here as well.”

Sandor could only nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually I don't post so soon after a chapter update but I want you guys to know what's going on so here's where I'm at:  
> \- you are now caught up with the completed chapters I have for this story. I have been struggling with connecting to the next stage of the story so writing has really lagged behind. (I'm sure some of it has to do with the pandemic etc.)  
> \- comments are down, which I hate to admit really boost and motivate me. I've never been one to inspire lots of comments; lots of readers yes, but not ones that like showing me their reactions. I love getting ANY sort of feedback, good or bad; I love suggestions, predictions, complaints, random thoughts, all of it.  
> \- my pain levels are up, which doesn't help with wanting to do anything much less write.  
> \- online university is really starting to kick my ass.  
> \- I have so many ideas floating around in my head that I'm struggling to focus on just one story and write it. So a lot is being written but not necessarily in the same story.
> 
> Anyway, I hope to have a new chapter by May or so. Thanks for understanding.


	17. A Bit of Mothering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been four days since Sandor found Sansa on the floor; Three days since she was admitted to the hospital; Two days since Sandor and Sansa shared their darkest secrets with each other; Less than one day since Sansa was officially arrested for the murder of her husband. The nightmare weekend is almost over. Jey comes to the hospital to lend a hand. Sandor really has to pee. And Sansa tries to take care of her best friend. 6221 Words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on _Innocence: Trauma_ : Still recovering from the debacle that was Sansa's arrest, Sandor gets more information about his condition, Arya's condition, and Robb's condition while Sansa struggles with reality.
> 
> As of 17/5/20: I've reformatted Innocence a little bit because it is so much longer than I ever imagined. We are now nearing the end of Part 1: Trauma. Soon we shall embark on Part 2: Reclamation. There might be a Part 3, but that is still to be determined.

“Boss?” Bronn called out softly from the doorway.

Sandor raised his head from the mattress next to where he was holding Sansa’s hand. He cleared his throat, “Yeah?”

“Lord Stark’s wife is here.”

“I’m not a threat!” Jey growled. “Just let me into the room.”

“Gotta wait on the boss’ okay, okay?”

“Was it really necessary to _check my ID?_ ”

“I really don’t know you ma’am. I had to be sure.”

“Let her in, Bronn,” Sandor replied before Jey could harm his employee.

Jey marched into the room in a huff but froze at the sight in front of her. Sansa curled up around their clasped hands and Sandor awkwardly slumped over the side of the wheelchair to maintain contact with Sansa. Jey’s hand flew to her mouth and whispered, “Oh, Sandor…”

“Hey Jey,” he replied.

She dropped her purse from the crook of her elbow and hurried to his side. Jey leaned over him and planted a kiss on Sansa’s temple. Then she pulled back and placed a kiss on _Sandor’s_ temple, the burned one. She suddenly squeezed his shoulders in a hug before straightening up and fluffing her hair. Sandor looked at her in surprise.

“I am _so_ glad you guys are okay.” Her grip on his shoulder was almost painful. “I wanted to come earlier but Robb wasn’t sure if Sansa would be okay with that. And I get it. But then I saw the news and you told me everyone got _attacked_! I couldn’t not stay away.”

“We’re beaten and bruised but not broken,” he replied.

Jey pulled the rolling stool around and sat down, smoothing her skirt and crossing her ankles like a proper Lady. She took Sandor’s hand in hers and reached out to rub Sansa’s arm. “She looks like … well she looks rough. My imagination alternated between worse than this and much better. Is she okay?”

“Enough.”

“Have they sedated her?”

Sandor shook his head, “They have her on an intermittent drip of some cocktail to keep her calm. Her vitals were pretty out of whack earlier apparently. They say it’s her exhaustion that keeps putting her to sleep. As for the drugs, she doesn’t want anything to knock her out unless they plan on killing her.”

Jey looked at Sandor but not with the surprised expression he was expecting. Sandor narrowed his eyes at her, furrowing his eyebrows. She sighed and nodded, “I always wondered about her, Sandor. Well, not always, but since she hired you.”

“You knew?” Sandor’s throat closed. “You knew she was…” he couldn’t say the word.

“No, not for sure. Like I said, I wondered. But I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that she was suicidal.”

The word still scared him. It drove him mad. When he closed his eyes to rest, or even to just blink, nightmares of finding her if she had killed herself plagued his mind. There had been one time, in the military, he hadn’t been the one to find the soldiers body, but he had been on the clean-up crew. Side-arm in the mouth. He never wanted to see his Little Bird like that…Sandor pursed his lip together and looked at the redhead with guilt in his eyes. “I had _no_ idea…”

“I’m not surprised,” Jey said and laughed.

It was the laughter that was most startling for Sandor, not the fact that Jey thought so little of him. He didn’t understand how his ignorance and blindness about something so, so, so… _important_ could be funny. He had failed!

Jey squeezed his hand after catching her breath. “Hey now. No, don’t look like that, Sandor. Please. I only mean that there are subtle things that a woman might do when she’s wearing a mask to cover things up, to hide what she’s feeling. Only a woman, or really someone who’s been where she was – is – mentally, could catch the signs. Please don’t beat yourself up.”

“She was a master at covering things up,” he commented dryly. “Expressions, excuses, outfits, and make-up. Everything. A damn one-woman show. I was with her _all_ of the time. I should have had an inkling.”

“Did you know?” Jey asked after a few minutes of silence.

Sandor looked down at his hands joined with Sansa’s good sister’s.

“Did you know about…” Jey repeated, her voice softer now, scared almost. “…about what he was doing to her?”

Sandor closed his eyes. He saw the bedroom again, the blood on the staircase. He saw the bruises on her arms and the cuts he’d stitched up and bandaged. The dislocated shoulder’s he’d popped back into place. He gulped and said, “I knew the whole time.”

There was silence.

Sandor opened his eyes to glance at her.

Jey was just nodding.

He caught her eye.

All she replied with was another squeeze of the hand and give him a sad smile.

Sandor was grateful that she left it at that. He didn’t have the energy to go into his own defense. Again.

After a moment Jey cleared her throat. “Well the attendant who brought me up said that Robb will be here soon. That’s why I’m here first instead of seeing him. And now I can see what sort of state _you_ are in. You clearly are not up for a lot right now. What can I do Sandor?”

“I’m okay.”

“Nonsense,” Jey chuckled as though he were a small child who had given her the wrong answer and it was her job to correct and educate him. “I did _not_ come to the hospital to just sit around with you. You, kind sir, are doing enough of that.”

Sandor scoffed but smiled all the same.

The reaction brightened Jey’s mood and encouraged her even more. “I came to help. To take care of everyone – you included. So, tell me something that I can _do._ ”

“There’s not much to do but sit around,” Sandor insisted. “Have you seen Arya?”

“No, but I plan on it soon.”

“Oh,” Sandor sighed, “I was hoping you could tell me how she’s doing. The docs gave me an update but they’re medical, technical about it, you know? They don’t know her and can’t see the little things like we can. They’re not family.”

“We’ll all go see her when Robb gets back,” Jey insisted with a pep in her voice.

“I’m not leaving Sansa’s side!” he hissed. “You’ll have to take photos or something for me. I am not leaving her side again unless she is _literally_ ripped out of my cold, dead arms. And if she is, whoever is doing the ripping had better fucking kick out my other knee because I will stop at _nothing_ to come back as an Other and prevent that from happening ever, _ever_ again.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jey gave his hand a pat. She didn’t continue until he looked over and say her green eyes fully of compassion. “No one is going to ask you to leave her. You hold her tight, Sandor. You hold her close. And the rest of us will form the battlements. No one is taking her away from you again.”

Sandor huffed in appreciation, though his mood was thoroughly soured. Just the _thought_ of that happening to Sansa again angered him, infuriated him. It also crushed him. Sandor rubbed his scars anxiously and ran a hand through his hair.

Jey sighed, “Really? Sandor, there is nothing I can do?”

“I mean,” Sandor shrugged finally, “I have to take a piss.” Before Jey could stand or say anything, Sandor hastily added, “Jey, that involves helping me out of the chair without jostling my leg and supporting me while I pee. You’ll strain your back if you try to help – you’re nearly as tiny as Sansa. The only way around not breaking your back would be for me to support myself on those convenient railings while _you_ aim for me.”

Jey looked at him as though she were considering it.

“And I’m not so sure that your husband will be thrilled with that,” he added hastily.

“Oh hush. I have brothers, I have a husband, I have a son, and I had an ailing father that I cared for,” Jey rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist in dismissal. “Aiming your penis so you can pee would only be in the top _three_ weirdest things I’ve had to do for the boys in my life.”

Sandor raised his eyebrow, wanting to ask, but not wanting to know. Instead he said, “I’ll just wait for Robb’s nurse to come instead.”

“Are you sure? I can go get someone right now.”

“It’s fine.”

“Sandor…”

“Really, Jey, it’s more just like the thought of ‘Hey, I should pee soon, but I can’t do it on my own’ that has got me thinking about it.”

“Okay…Then, food?” Jey said. “Can I get you food?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“A drink?”

“I’m okay.”

Jey groaned. “You’re a terrible patient Sandor.”

“That’s what my doctor told me.”

“What are you doing here, Jey?”

Jey’s head snapped around at the sound of her husband’s voice. She jumped up and ran to Robb, though she was conscious enough to keep her head away from his face. She hugged him tight. He had his arms around her just as tight.

“Gods, I was so scared,” she sputtered to his shoulder, crying all over again. “You weren’t picking up the phone and it’s all the radio and news could talk about! It’s all over that Sansa is being arrested! And then I finally called Sandor because I was so worried – I thought I was going to be sick. And he told me, he told me about what happened the police…”

Robb was running his hand over her back, his fist in her hair, rocking her slightly side to side. “I wish I could have been the one to tell you. Everything happened so fast.”

Jey waved her hand, pulling away. She dabbed at her under-eyes to prevent her make-up from smearing. “It doesn’t matter now. I know and I’m here. We’ll recover and everything will be fine. Oh, Seven Almighty,” she murmured as she got a good look at Robb’s face. She raised her hand to touch but never made contact. “You look terrible sweetie. Are you in pain?”

“Only a little,” he admitted. “They’ve given me some heavy stuff to numb me up. I feel like my face is full of cotton balls.”

“Looks that way too,” Sandor mumbled, unable to help himself. If Robb could tease him in his own way about loving Sansa, then Sandor could dish it right back whenever he got the chance.

“At least I can walk!” Robb replied. Sandor looked up, raising an eyebrow. Jey even looked at him questioningly. Robb sighed, “And in case you were wondering, I would grin at you if it weren’t so painful. Cause that was a joke.”

Sandor shook his head. It wasn’t funny though he couldn’t stop himself from smiling still. It was only funny because of the situation, the explanation. It was funny in a horrible, morbid kind of way.

“Sand…” Sansa mumbled, stretching her fingers around his wrist.

Sandor leaned close to her head and whispered, “Aye, I’m still here love. I haven’t left.”

“Who else is?” she smacked her lips as though her mouth were dry, but her eyes remained closed.

“Your brother, and Jey too. She got here not too long ago.”

Sansa groaned, turning her face into the bed. “No, no, she can’t see me like this!”

Jey was around to the other side of the bed and sitting down on it before Sansa could finish the sentence. She gently pulled back Sansa’s hair gently away from her face, smoothing it. “It’s just me, San. Bender is still at home. I’m here to take care of you – with a mother’s touch. I’m sure Sandor and Robb have been doing a good job. But sometimes you just need a mom. And since I can’t call Cat for you, I hope I can be an OK stand-in.”

Sansa started crying anew. She pulled hers and Sandor’s hand up to hide her face, to stifle her tears. Her shoulders shook and Sandor knew that it, and crying in general, was hurting her.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. Cry it out now.” Jey said sweetly and held her hand out behind her. “Robb, sweetie, there’s a brush in my purse.”

Robb obeyed his wife with the minimal direction and retrieved the hairbrush from the purse on the floor. He handed it to Jey and sat down in the chair on that side of the bed, the purse in his clutches like a security blanket. He leaned his head back against the window, closing his eyes though Sandor knew he was not asleep.

Jey started working the brush through Sansa’s long hair, humming softly. First at the ends to get the tangles out. Then, slowly moving up until she could run the brush through without snagging on any tangles. Sansa had mellowed with the sensation, though she kept her eyes shut and her hands clenched tight around Sandor's. He didn’t mind in the slightest. Jey continued with the motion, occasionally muttering sweet nothings.

“Knock, knock. Dr. Stark? It’s just me, Selna,” Selna said, knocking on the door frame as she entered the room. She looked around and chuckled, “My! You have a whole party going on in here.”

Sansa just nuzzled in closer to Sandor’s arm.

“Selna, this is Jey, Robb’s wife.” Sandor introduced them. “Jey, this is the nurse assigned to Sansa’s care. She’s been with us since almost the beginning.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Jey said sincerely, looking up but never stilling her hands.

“Is she asleep?” Selna asked Sandor softly, a light hand on his shoulder and the other checking Sansa’s pulse on her wrist.

He shook his head, “No. Just resting.”

“Sansa, if you’re ready,” Selna cooed, “we can move you back to your previous ward. It’s more secure there. It won’t be exactly the same room as before, but it’s close.”

Sansa opened her eyes but sought out Sandor instead of the nurse. The blue was so questioning, so unsure. She no longer had a stable grasp on the world – he could see it. She needed guidance. She needed someone who would only do what was best for her, what she would want, to direct her, to guide her to the right decisions and course of actions. Sandor gave her an encouraging squeeze, silently telling her that it was okay to do, if she was ready. Sansa swallowed hard and finally nodded.

“Unfortunately,” the nurse continued, as she began to move the IV lines and monitors from the hooks on the wall to the hooks on the bed, “that means you’ll have to let go of your dear Sandor’s hands. The doors are designed to fit a bed, not a bed and a wheelchair. But he’ll be right behind you the whole time. He can talk to you if you want though.”

“San,” Jey was bending over Sansa, enveloping her without crushing her, before Sansa could disagree; her long brown hair fell in front of Sansa’s face like a shield, “Sandor will be right behind us the whole time, I promise. Robb will make sure he follows closely. But you don’t have to be alone. I won’t leave your side. I’ll stay in the bed with you and hold you the whole time. I’m not big and hairy though, can’t change that fact.”

“Is that okay with you, Little Bird?” Sandor asked. Jey flipped her hair and Sansa bit her top lip, unsure. He slid his middle finger down her forehead between her brows, trying to ease the tension there. “I don’t see any way around it. But Jey’s got you. I’ll be back at your side as soon as we’re in your room again.”

“Okay,” she finally whispered, closing her eyes again, resigned.

“Selna can you help me turn her over?” he asked. Together they rolled Sansa from her left side to her right while Jey settled onto the bed. Sansa curled up against her good sister. Selna tucked the blanket up around Sansa’s shoulders and locked the railings into place. Another nurse, a woman, came in and they unlocked the wheels. After only a few minutes, they were ready to go. As they left the room, Jey tucked Sansa’s head under her chin while her arms were wrapped around her head and shoulders.

“Here,” Robb said as he thrust Jey’s purse into Sandor’s arms. Sandor took it without question and Robb began pushing Sandor after Sansa.

It was an agonizingly slow trek back across the hospital. Every couple of meters Sandor called something out to Sansa. He nearly had a heart attack at the elevator bay but somehow, they all fit into the same elevator. He could hear Jey muttering things to Sansa from their close proximities, though he didn’t know what. She was just out of reach too; even with his long arms he could brush her with his fingertips. By the time they got back to Sansa’s room, Sandor’s knee was starting to hurt again. He wanted to be able to hold Sansa’s hand nearly as much as she did, just to draw some comfort from the contact. And he _really_ had to pee.

“Robb,” he said in a hushed tone while Selna locked the bed into place and began rehanging the machines, “push me into the bathroom. And ask Selna to get me a bottle or dish or something.”

“Sure.” Sandor could hear the snicker in Robb’s voice as he left him in the bathroom.

Selna appeared a moment later with a container that looked like a cross between a gas can and milk jug, with its long, wide spout and creamy white not-quite-completely opaque coloring. She handed it to him and said, “Dr. Apperford mentioned that using the toilette is difficult for you. Leave this in the sink when you’re done, and I’ll get it cleaned out and leave it on the back of the toilet for you.”

“Thanks.” Sandor waited until the door shut before he hastily pulled the blanket off his lap. He pulled his cock out of his shorts and suppressed a moan of relief as he emptied his bladder into the spout. His head fell back against the wheelchair as the stress literally drained from his body.

Carefully, Sandor screwed the spout closed and sat the container in the sink as instructed before situating his shorts again. He opted for multiple squirts of hand sanitizer instead of trying to wash his hands. Once the blanket was back in place, he opened the door and backed out of the bathroom.

“I was thinking we could order out for Yunkish tonight,” Robb was saying.

“I could run home and whip something up instead,” Jey countered from where she was still holding Sansa on the bed.

Robb shook his head. “I’d like you to stay as long as you can before you need to get back to B.”

“Yunkish does sound really good,” Sandor added. He saw Sansa start at the sound of his voice and Jey chuckle. “Don’t get me wrong, Jey, your food is delicious but something about those noodles is calling my name right now.”

“Sandor?” her voice was small, hopeful.

“If you’d like, Sansa,” Selna said as she made up the other bed in the room – that was when Sandor realized it wasn’t the same room as they had been for the previous three days. This one was larger and had space for the two beds. The nurse continued, “We can exchange Sandor for Jey as your teddy bear.”

“Please,” Sansa said. Her voice now raw, gravely. “Will it hurt him?”

“I’ll be fine, Little Bird.”

“Shut up – I wasn’t talking to you.”

Sandor blinked as though he’d been slapped. Robb clamped his mouth shut to stop from laughing out loud. Selna only chuckled but shook her head. “No, dear. It’ll do him some good in fact. He needs to rest.”

“Good.”

“I’m going to get up now, San,” Jey said, easing out from under Sansa. “You’ll only be alone for a moment or two.”

Selna pushed Sandor around to the other side of the bed and locked the wheels of his chair. Jey helped scoot Sansa to the side to give Sandor enough room, at least to get settled, before Selna turned around with her hands on her hips. “I guess if you needed a pan, you’ll need help getting in the bed.” There was a twinkle in her eye.

Sandor bit his tongue to hold in his snarky retort and nodded. Robb covered his snort with a cough.

“Okay then, Jey do you mind helping?”

“Of course!” she exclaimed, nearly clapping with joy. “ _Finally,_ I can be of some use!”

Both women positioned themselves on either side of Sandor. Selna let the leg rest drop and Sandor inched to the edge of the chair, grinding his teeth, and sat his heel on the ground. He nodded. On Selna’s count of three, he used his good leg to hoist himself up, balanced and aided by the nurse and Jey. He wobbled a moment as his vision threatened to fade to black from standing so quickly. Then the throbbing hit his thigh and his knee with such force he almost groaned.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” he said, more to himself. He could feel Sansa’s blue eyes on his face, analyzing his every movement, every twitch of the smallest muscle.

“Sandor?”

“Just stood up too fast, love,” he replied glancing at her. “Been sitting on my ass all day.”

“Jey,” Selna instructed, “the chair.”

Jey quickly unlocked and pulled the wheelchair away and Robb moved it out of their way. With a pair of little hops that made Sandor grit his teeth and growl, low in his chest, instead of barking out profanities because of the agony that shot out of his knee and up his leg, his ass was sitting on the edge of the bed. He took big gulps of air, trying to calm his heartrate.

Sansa’s hand came to rest on his hip. She squeezed at the hem of his shirt, tugging until he glanced backwards. She said, “You’re very pale, Sandor. You’re sweating a lot.”

“Aye, I’m not surprised,” he nodded, now breathing deeply through his nose. “My leg hurts nearly like it did the day I woke up after I lost part of my thigh.”

“You should have stayed in the chair. You can still hold my hand.”

“It wasn’t as comfortable as it looked, Little Bird.”

“Besides, he needs to recline. Let’s get you settled back on the bed, Sandor, and your leg elevated,” Selna said, her firm hands still around Sandor’s elbow and bicep. “Then we’ll change your ice and bandage and get you some more pain killers.”

“Okay,” he said, “I think I’m ready.”

Sansa moved her hand as Sandor swung his good leg up on the bed, twisting his body. Selna and Jey kept him from falling sideways onto the floor. Then Selna took his ankle and gently lifted his leg, taking the weight. Sandor shuffled sideways until he was squarely on the bed, while leaving enough room as he could for Sansa. His head dropped back as he took in big gulping breaths again.

“Nauseous?” Selna wondered as she placed a prop under his knee and ankle.

Sandor shook his head. “Exhausted. That was more work than I expected. I didn’t realize something so minute could be—"

“Are those puppies, on your shorts?” Sansa blurted.

Sandor looked down at Sansa at his side, who was looking down at his yellow shorts with black dogs on them. She looked up at him, a smile on her face and laughter in her blue eyes. He nodded, “Aye.”

“I always thought you were a monochrome shorts kind of guy,” she murmured as Selna fussed around them to get the blankets over Sandor’s right leg.

“Do you think about his shorts a lot, Sansan?” Robb asked from next to Sansa.

“No, I just,” she sputtered trying to come up with an answer. “He is a very serious, straight forward man. It’s nice to know that he’s a big softy under all that dark exterior,” Sansa replied hastily, her cheeks turning quite pink.

“Because no one could have seen that,” Robb muttered. “Did you really have to be looking at his shorts?”

“Robbyyyyy,” she whined.

“Honey leave the poor girl alone. Let her have a little bit of fun. Besides, she’s right – I would have taken Sandor for a monochrome shorts guy too,” Jey piped in.

“Have _you_ been thinking about my sister’s bodyguard’s smallclothes behind my back?” Robb accused his wife.

“Look at him Robb!” Jey exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “The guy is the Warrior in the flesh. You really cannot blame a woman for enjoy some eye candy when it’s _right there_ , ripe for the taking! You know he’s spoken for! A woman can look without buying.”

Sandor cleared his throat. It was _his_ turn now to be flushing red in the face.

“The man is good looking,” Selna agreed as she walked around the bed and took Robb’s elbow, steering him to the second bed, “No one can deny that. But you look like you’re ready to fall over Lord Stark, so I want you in your bed before I have to explain to your doctor how you chipped a tooth too.”

“Fine,” Robb grumbled.

“You good?” Jey asked the bodyguard.

Sandor nodded, still pink in the face, and she went to get her husband settle; her husband who was still griping about everyone thinking about Sandor’s shorts.

Selna was back at his side. She asked, “Are you comfortable?”

“Enough.”

“That’s not what I asked Sandor. It is going to hurt to change your bandage and ice. You don’t want the rest of you uncomfortable too.”

Sandor adjusted his shoulders and folded the pillow behind his head just how he liked it. Then he nodded, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Sansa laid her head on his arm, taking his hand as Selna left the room.

“How’re you holding up?” he wondered, looking down at her.

“I’m much better now.”

“You okay with Yunkish for dinner?”

“As long as you get me those little pancake things that I like with extra sauce.”

“You don’t even have to ask,” Sandor replied, running his hand over her arm gently.

“Sandor?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you hurt badly?”

“It certainly doesn’t feel very good.”

“Do you have enough space in the bed?”

“This is _your_ bed, Little Bird. I should be the one asking you that question.”

“But you’re in a lot of pain.”

“Sansa,” Sandor sighed, just as his phone buzzed and Selna returned with Dr. Apperford.

**Let her fuss over you. It’s a good distraction. Robb – Jeyne Stark**

“Looks like everyone is getting comfortable,” the doctor smiled. She pulled up her stool next to Sandor’s leg. “You ready?”

Sandor grunted. “Don’t think I have a fucking choice.”

“Nope, you fucking don’t. So, tough it out big guy and I’ll give you a lidocaine shot.”

“I like her,” Sansa whispered.

Dr. Apperford pretended to not have heard the comment, though she did smile.

“Me too,” he whispered back. Sandor took a deep breath as they lifted his leg to rest on a cushioned block in order to work around and under his knee. Sandor’s phone buzzed again.

**He’s right; let her fuss. – Jeyne Stark**

Sandor looked over at the other bed only to have Robb glare at him threateningly and Jey give him a big grin.

“FATHER, WARRIOR, STRANGER, SMITH!” he cried out gutturally, looking down at Dr. Apperford unwrapping his knee.

Selna slammed her hand down on his chest to keep him reclined. Sansa jumped beside him, clamping down on his hand. She was shaking – he could feel it – but she didn’t say anything or let go.

Sandor growled again; his teeth clenched. “A fucking warning next time doc.”

“We’re halfway done,” she replied sweetly, “with the unwrapping.”

“Sandor?” Sansa whimpered at his side.

Sandor flexed his arm, unwilling to let his grip on the mattress lessen, lest he accidentally squeeze Sansa’s arm too tight. “I’m okay, love.”

“You don’t sound like it…”

“Just keep squeezing my hand.”

“Have you found out what’s wrong with your knee yet?” she asked, lacing their fingers together.

Apperford glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow but otherwise remained silent as she peeled off the last of the bandage.

“Broke my kneecap,” he replied taking deep breaths while there wasn’t any motion or pressure on his knee.

“That sounds … not great.”

“Doesn’t feel that great either.”

“Sandor?” she whispered, tugging on his hand.

He looked down at her. She was smiling at him. It was her mischievous smile.

“What?” he asked hesitantly.

“Can I see it now?”

“If you’re talking about my penis—”

“That’s it! Absolutely not!” Robb shouted from the other side of the room. “Sandor up, get up!”

“No! Robby stop!” Sansa shrieked though she still smacked Sandor’s stomach as he laughed. “Robby no! Be nice. He’s making a joke.”

“He’d better be…”

“I just want to see his knee. He said it was gross looking.”

“Sure,” her brother muttered, unconvinced.

“Are you going to be sick, Sansa?” Dr. Apperford asked her, studying her face closely.

Sansa shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Jey can you help me up?”

“Of course.” Jey slid off Robb’s bed and came to help Sansa sit up.

She leaned over Sandor’s hips – making him feel rather exposed with only a blanket and his shorts on – and gasped. “That’s so gross. It’s like a small watermelon Sandor! It’s kind of colored like one too!”

Dr. Apperford laughed, “Yeah it kind of does!”

“It looks squishy. Can I touch it?”

“No!” Sandor barked without thinking. Sansa looked up at him, her blue eyes questioning him, wondering why he’d spoken so harshly to her. He forced his face to relax and lowered his voice, “Please, no, Little Bird, don’t torture me any more than you have to.”

“Okay, only ice and a bandage then,” Sansa agreed. Jey lowered her back to the bed and Sansa kissed his bicep before pressing her cheek to his skin. “Do _you_ want milk of the poppy, Sandor?”

He glared at her, though he couldn’t put any heat behind it because she was grinning. He turned the tables instead. “Only if you take it too, Little Bird.”

“Light painkillers then,” she replied instantly, trying to prevent her smile from fading. She was only half successful.

“Aye, just painkillers,” he agreed eagerly, flexing beneath her.

“Gods, Sansa,” Jey interrupted. Sandor looked to where Jey was lifting Sansa’s hand and inspecting her fingers closely. “Look at your nails! Selna, do you have clippers and a file I could borrow?”

Oh. Each day Sandor had told himself he’d get her nails clipped and sorted out. But each day held something new that had pushed the seemingly minor issue from his mind. Tests and arrests and only the Gods knew what else. It was good that Jey had arrived, he decided. Very good.

“Of course.” The nurse rummaged through the cart she had brought into the room with her and passed Jey the tools.

“Tomorrow, or maybe the next day,” Jey said, picking up Sansa’s hand again and setting to work, “I’ll bring in my nail basket and I’ll give you a proper manicure and pedicure.”

Sandor clenched his eyes closed as Dr. Apperford began rewrapping his knee, growling in his throat; this time with the ice closer to his skin and it did feel better than it had before. Little _clip clip clips_ came from his right as Jey recited what colors of nail polish she had. He tried to focus on that instead of his knee, but it was difficult. Sansa switched hands as the doctor moved up to his thigh to look at it again. Her hand hovered barely above the throbbing skin, tracing the divot in his muscle.

“I’ll bring in an ice pack for your thigh too, since it’s starting to swell a little bit,” Dr. Apperford said as she snapped off her gloves. All Sandor could do was nod weakly. He was worn out. She nodded to all three of the patients in the room. “And we’ll get you guys some medicine in just a little bit. We just need you to eat first.”

“Oh!” Jey looked up from filing Sansa’s nails, “I’ll be ordering Yunkish in just a minute, when I’m done. They’ll eat plenty.”

“Good,” Dr. Apperford replied, jotting down notes in Sandor’s chart. She checked Sansa’s too before moving on to Robb’s.

“Feeling alright, Lord Stark?”

“Just tired,” he mumbled.

“That’s okay. Get your sleep.”

“I’ll wake up when the food is here.”

“Just soft foods. Liquids are preferred.”

“I’m getting my usual.”

“No, he won’t,” Jey assured the doctor. “Only soft foods for him tonight.”

Dr. Apperford patted Robb’s foot. “I like your wife, Lord Stark. Well, since you are all in good hands here. I’ll see you tomorrow in the theater, Sandor.”

“Theater?”

Sandor’s stomach dropped as Sansa turned to face him. Jey finished the last finger ail and quietly sat the tools on the table. She pecked Robb on the ear before stepping out of the room. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“Aye, Little Bird. The operating theater.”

“Do I need surgery?” she wondered. “Am I more broken than I feel?”

“Oh no, love, not at all,” Sandor cooed as he pulled her closer to his side. Sansa placed her head on his shoulder, tucking into his neck. “Your ribs will heal just fine as long as we follow the doctors’ instructions.”

“But—”

“Dr. Apperford means me,” he interrupted. “I have to go into surgery tomorrow afternoon.”

Her breath hitched in her chest. Her right hand, making nonsense shapes on his chest, froze as the tremors began. Sandor squeezed her as much as he dared; bringing his left hand up to cup her face.

“I told you that my knee is broken, remember?”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” she whispered. “ _Surgery_?”

“Aye, but it’s a short procedure. And it’ll help me heal faster. That way I can help you.”

“What’s happening to everyone?” she demanded as yet more panic set it. “Me. You. Why is Robb in a bed too? What happened? Did…did _he_ get to you too?”

Sandor closed his eyes but couldn’t prevent the few tears from leaking down his cheeks. Ramsey would forever haunt her. He wondered when she would stop thinking he was still out there – _if_ she would ever stop thinking he was in the shadows, waiting to hurt her and those she loved. Sandor kissed her crown.

His voice was shaky even to his ears when he spoke, “No, he didn’t get me or your brother. You need to believe me. Ram—He will never touch you again. You are safe from him. He’s gone forever and you are still here. We are okay.”

“But you’re both hurt,” she moaned. His neckline was damp down from her own tears as she silently wept.

“It wasn’t him,” Sandor insisted. “It was the police. And they’re gone too.”

“Robby?” she called out. When he didn’t answer right away, Sansa turned to stone and her voice dripped with panic, “Robby?”

“Sansa?” Robb mumbled. “I’m right here, Sansan.”

“Robby are you okay?”

“’m okay, I promise,” Robb replied, his voice heavy. “I just fell asleep for a little bit.”

“Why are you…”

Sandor could sense that she wasn’t able to finish the question, so he guessed at what she had been asking. “Why are you in a bed too?”

“Bastards broke my nose,” Robb said. “I’m in here just for tonight. They’re monitoring my concussion. I’ll be out tomorrow.”

“And you’re not having surgery?”

“No. At least not yet. Gotta let the swelling go down to see how the bone looks.”

“Are you in pain?”

“I’m alright, Sansan. They numbed my face really well. Just a little bit of throbbing.”

“If you promise that—”

“Worry about your big man. I’ll be okay.”

Sansa gulped but nodded, though Robb couldn’t see her.

“Sansa?”

“Robby?”

“I’m going to fall asleep again, soon. I’m really tired,” Robb sighed.

Sansa nodded again, “Sleep Robby.”

“I love you Sans…”

As his voice trailed off, Sansa curled around Sandor more. He held her close and tried to rock them side to side, ever so slightly.

Jey slipped back into the room. She adjusted the blinks first before pulling the blanket up around Sansa’s shoulders. She draped a light blanket over Sandor’s leg and glared at him to object. He remained silent. Jey gave his shoulder a pat before kissing his burned temple and Sansa’s cheek.

“Food will be here in a little bit,” she whispered. “Robb’s out and Sansa’s getting there too. Looks like it’ll be just you and I eating for now.”

“Thanks Jey,” he replied. And he wasn’t talking about the Yunkish food. He didn’t know how to say the words but the look she gave him before sitting down in the chair in the corner and opening her phone told him that perhaps she understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everyone! The end of the semester last week and trying to figure out what the fuck I'm doing has really put a dampening on my writing. Plus, this is the kind of chapter that is necessary but is pretty boring when it comes to what happens, which makes it hard to write. I still don't love it but it's out so I hope you don't hate it too much.


	18. Chapter 18: Appearing to the Masses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A press conference is held. 3341 Words. TW.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on _Trauma_ : It's been four days since Sandor found Sansa on the floor; Three days since she was admitted to the hospital; Two days since Sandor and Sansa shared their darkest secrets with each other; Less than one day since Sansa was officially arrested for the murder of her husband. The nightmare weekend is almost over. Jey comes to the hospital to lend a hand. Sandor really has to pee. And Sansa tries to take care of her best friend. 6221 Words.
> 
> Authors Note & disclaimer: I am not a doctor, nor have I taken any extensive medical or biological classes. The medicine practiced in this story is a mix between personal experience, real practices, guessing and made-up fantasy, and an imagination of modernized canon practice of medicine and Maester-ship.
> 
> Please see end notes for other announcements.

****

**Trigger Warning: mentions of violence/police violence.**

Cameras flashed despite the sun and the reporters started shouting as soon as they saw movement at the entrance to the hospital. The combined effort of the security department of the hospital, a handful of individuals from Northern Industries, and some of Robb’s security team held them at bay as the reporters wanted to surge forwards. It was a feeding frenzy.

The first to emerge from the glass double sliding doors was a stout woman, dressed in an impeccably ironed black pantsuit with a light blue button up blouse with loose long sleeves and beige wedge heels. Her blonde hair, straightened and parted in the center, was tucked behind one ear and flowed just past her shoulders. Perhaps she was glaring at the gathered crowd. Or maybe she was squinting in the morning lite. She carried a tablet and her cellphone.

The next to exit the hospital was Lord Robb Stark and Lady Jeyne Westerling-Stark; both bookended between two bodyguards – the ones they personally used when it was necessary to do so. This was one such time. His red hair shimmered in the afternoon autumn sunlight, contrasting with the black fitted jeans and black turtleneck sweater that he wore. His face, nearly devoid of all expression except for showing the occasional discomfort, was still quite swollen, and both of his eyes were black and blue and purple. A white strip bridged his nose. Jey’s chestnut hair was curled in big ringlets and left loose to fall in front of and behind her shoulders. Her brown eyes were guarded behind dark sunglasses to hide the wrinkles under her eyes caused by stress and little sleep. Her face was straight and grim. She wore a sensible mauve short sleeve dress that fell just above her knees and a grey cardigan with violet pumps.

Behind them, another woman appeared in a plaid green and black skirt and a dark maroon blouse and black jacket with black flats. Her dark brown hair was in a single braid down her back in the Northern fashion. She was surrounded by most of Sansa’s legal team, all dressed in their professional suits and straight faced.

Upon seeing Lord Stark’s face and surrounded by the extra security, the reporters resurged in their shouted questions.

“Lord Stark!”

“What do you have to say about your sister’s arrest?”

“What happened to your face!”

“Lady Stark, what do you think of his looks?”

“Do you stand by Lady Bolton?”

“Lord Stark, is it true that your sister murdered Lord Bolton!”

“How long have you been in the hospital!”

“Were you cheating on your wife!”

“Did she do this to your nose!”

“Will you able to perform your parliamentary duties or will you be stepping aside?”

“How did you feel about your good brother?”

“Where is your son?”

“There have been no reports of Sansa Bolton entering or leaving the police station—”

“Lady Stark! What do you think of all of this!”

“Where is your sister, Lord Stark!”

“Is she on the run?”

“What other secrets is your family hiding?”

“How will having a felon in your family affect your campaign next year?”

“ _Will_ you still be running for Parliament next year?”

“Did you ever suspect your sister of being a murderer?”

“Will you be asking the Queen for a pardon for your sister?”

The first woman stepped forward and drew the vampires’ attention away from the Lord and Lady Stark. Dozens of microphones and audio recorders were thrust towards face. It did not fluster her in the slightest. She was trained for this and she excelled at her job. She fed off of their anticipation of what might be said. She calmly waited, her face impassive, until the shouting and died down and the courtyard had fallen nearly silent. In the near distance cars rumbled by, though the sound fell into the background of the chilly autumn Monday morning warmed by the sun.

“Good morning,” she began, eying the vultures. “As many of you know already, my name is Keira Leadbetter. For those of you who do not know who I am: I am the public relations liaison for Lord Stark, his family, and his political office. They have prepared a public statement for me to read. What I have to say will only be said once; I will not repeat myself. Questions may be asked at the end. However, if I am interrupted, or if my colleague is,” Keira motioned to the other woman, who had stepped forward to stand just behind and to the side, “then this press conference will be concluded, and you will all have to deal with a short-written statement that contains significantly less information. Is that clear?”

No one dared test the promise.

“Then here are the facts,” she paused for effect. Robb visibly swallowed and Jey readjusted her grip on his hand. Keira glanced down at the tablet in her hand.

“Yesterday, Sunday mid-morning, the Winterfell Police, using the signed warrant that was obtained by the District Attorney’s office, arrested Doctor Lady Sansa Stark, here at the hospital. She has been accused of murdering her husband, Lord Ramsey Snow Bolton. Both the family and Dr. Stark maintain her innocence and right to self-defense. In the process of detaining Dr. Stark, the police escalated the arrest and turned it into a serious physical altercation involving not only Dr. Stark, but also Representative and Warden of the North, Lord Robbert Stark, the Agent Lady Arya Stark, and Dr. Stark’s personal bodyguard and close friend, Master Chief Commander, Sandor Clegane.

“The details of the events of the altercation are as follows,” Keira said, taking a moment to lick her lips and scroll on the tablet. “Lord Stark and Master Chief Commander Clegane attempted to protect their sister and friend from the treatment that the police were using towards Dr. Stark in the course of the arrest. The police have claimed that Lord Stark and Master Chief Commander Clegane were trying to impede an arrest and prevent justice from occurring. This is not the case. Multiple witnesses have already made statements, to both the lawyers, the District Attorney’s office, and the Winterfell P.D. that state this fact. Furthermore, Lord Stark and Master Chief Commander Clegane have not been arrested, despite the threats from the lead detective. All other rumors that indicate differently are false.

“However, the actions taken by Winterfell P.D. did not stop there. An officer elbowed Lord Stark in the face in attempts to, quote, “keep him under control”, end quote. This resulted in the immediate breaking of Lord Stark’s nose. As you can see,” Keira motioned to the Lord behind her, “his nose and cheeks are still swollen, and his skin is discolored, nearly 24 hours later. Lord Stark underwent testing and imaging yesterday. The excellent medical staff here at Winterfell General have confirmed that he has received a minor concussion from the blow and a minor temporary vision impairment due to the coagulation of blood while his nasal cavity was nearly and completely crushed. Lord Stark will make a full recovery in due time, though he will have to undergo minimal plastic surgery to fix his nasal cavity. This is to prevent future breathing issues. The surgery will take place as soon as the swelling has completely disappeared. This will likely occur within the next two to three weeks.

“As with any eventful or traumatic time, Lord Stark and his family implore the media to leave them be. As such, Lord Stark’s son is completely off limits, per Queen Daenerys’ Decree on the Protection of Minors. This protection branches out to also include his schoolteachers, friends, friends’ families, and anyone else who has a relationship with the young Lord Stark – all are off limits in the search for information. Lord Stark’s wife, Lady Jeyne Westerling-Stark, asks for her privacy as well, though she is currently planning on continuing her normal charity events and scheduled public events. This is subject to change based on not only her husband’s treatment, but also the harassment received from both the public at large and the media. Lord Stark will take the remainder of the next two weeks off to recover before easing back into work. He understands that Parliament resumes session in three days, on Wednesday. His doctors have placed him on medical leave for the time being and have restricted him from traveling. Aids from his office will be making appearances for him on the Parliamentary floor, per King Tommen’s Law on Substitute Representation, and Lord Stark will tele-work from home as necessary to conduct matters of business.

“All other questions concerning the legislative session or Lord Stark in the capacity of being a Representative and the Warden of the North can be redirected through his office, as normal.” Keira paused and the second stepped forward.

She handed Keira a bottle of water. Keitra took a few gulps and passed the bottle back with a quiet, “Thank you.”

The reporters all waited with bated breath; some frantically scribbling in notebooks or typing on their devices. They knew she wasn’t done yet, but no one dared to speak.

“Lord Stark has received permission for me to make a statement on behalf of his younger sister at this time.” Keira glanced down at her tablet and cleared her throat. “Agent Lady Arya Stark is, as you all know, a well-known, respected, and decorated member of the Westerosi Elite Corps as well as the Queen’s Special Forces. She was the first Westerosi, either man or woman, to be accepted into and to be trained at, the House of the Black and White in Braavos. She remains a member of the Faceless Men today. We believe that it is because of this extraordinary career and tremendous amount of training, that the officers who were sent to arrest Dr. Stark felt it necessary to subdue Agent Stark with absolutely no provocation.

“Agent Stark was immediately thrown to the ground where her right temple collided with the tile floor, when Lord Stark and Master Chief Commander Clegane attempted to protect Dr. Stark. Agent Stark sustained a head injury and remained unconscious, without notice, for several minutes. She was taken away for treatment as soon as her condition was observed and given the appropriate tests and scans to determine the extent of her head injury. In addition to a severe cut on her temple that bled for nearly an hour and required nearly a half dozen stitches and two staples, Agent Stark sustained a severe concussion. At this moment in time, her condition is stable. She was put into a medically induced coma to help reduce the swelling in her brain. The extent of Agent Stark’s brain injuries is not expected to be severe or compromising, though her medical team will not know for certainty until she wakes.

“As with Lord Stark’s attack, witnesses have already made statements as to what exactly happened and which officers forced Agent Stark to the ground. There is also security footage backing up all accounts. Again, the Stark family demands their privacy at this time as they hope their sister makes a full recovery soon. Because Agent Stark is in active duty, any further questions regarding Agent Stark must be directed through the WEC, QSF, or the FM until further notice.” Keira looked behind her at Robb. They made eye contact and Robb nodded, though he closed his eyes and left them like that. He swayed a bit and one of the bodyguards gently took his elbow to steady him. Keira turned back to the reporters.

“This is my assistant Jenny Seral,” Keira said next and Jenny stepped forwards. “She has worked with me on Lord Stark’s PR team for the last four years. During this tumultuous time, Jenny has temporarily been placed in charge of Dr. Stark’s public image and correspondence. We are also working with Northern Industries to implement an in-house Public Representation Department, through which all NI news will be fed. After today, any further announcements involving Dr. Stark personally will come through Jenny and only Jenny. However, since I have your studious attentions, I will be making the statement regarding Major Chief Commander Clegane and Dr. Stark.”

With only one small glance back at Robb, Keira continued. “Master Chief Commander Sandor Clegane has been Dr. Stark’s close friend and personal bodyguard for the past five years. He has worked for Northern Industries since it was necessary for Dr. Stark to hire a security team. They have been friends for fifteen or so years. Commander Clegane was with Dr. Stark, Lord Stark, and Agent Stark as they were walking back from breakfast when WPD arrived and arrested Dr. Stark.

“Major Chief Commander Clegane’s actions very closely mirror those of Lord Starks, as previously mentioned. He, in no way, wanted to or intended to prevent the arrest from happening. His concern was only for Dr. Stark’s health and physical condition – because of late, she has been in poor health. Intimidated by Major Chief Commander Clegane’s unusual size and reputation from his distinguished military career, two officers restrained him while a third kicked out his knee from behind. This blow was landed on the same leg that Major Chief Commander Clegane has a wartime injury – an injury for which he received one of his purple hearts. When he collapsed to the floor, the same officer smashed his face into the tile. Very luckily, he has not sustained any brain injury or concussion; only a few stitches. That, however, is not the extent of his injuries. The knee that was kicked out from under him was the first to hit the floor. Major Chief Commander Clegane has a mild hairline fracture on his patella. He will be undergoing surgery this afternoon in order to properly set the bone, after which he will be in recovery for the better part of the next six to nine months.

“Major Chief Commander Clegane remains at Dr. Stark’s bedside as friend and bodyguard when he is able to be and has called in associates from Northern Industries to aid in Dr. Stark’s personal security detail. He is still personally directing Dr. Stark’s security needs and will be continuing in his position of Head of Security at NI after his surgery. Major Chief Commander Clegane, backed by the complete support of the entire Stark family, insists on his privacy. Any attempt at contacting him, or his family, will be handled accordingly and to the fullest extent of the law. All other updates on his condition will be released through Jenny as he allows.

“And finally, we move on to Dr. Stark herself,” Keira said after accepting another gulp of water from Jenny’s water bottle. “Much of the event in question yesterday morning has already been discussed and a clear picture has been painted. Not much more needs to be elaborated on. Therefore, the public facts pertaining directly to Dr. Stark are as follows:

“Dr. Stark was admitted into the hospital in the wee hours of Friday morning for injuries undisclosed at this time. She has been receiving care since then. Yesterday morning, Dr. Stark was arrested, handcuffed, and forcibly removed from the room in a manner that went against not only her medical team’s advice but also the proper process of law. Dr. Stark was manhandled inappropriately by several male officers of the Winterfell Police Department. Dr. Stark was forcefully dragged away from her caretakers and medical team. Dr. Stark was involuntarily dragged down the hall and across the hospital with no regard for pain they might be causing her, with no regard for her physical limitations due to previous injuries and health, and with absolutely no regard for her mental well-being. Again, previous circumstances remaining unnamed were not taken into consideration when WPD executed their arrest. Dr. Stark’s condition at the time of the arrest and the reason for her hospital stay will not be disclosed at this time.

“These actions taken by the Winterfell Police Department have not only severely set Dr. Stark back in her recovery. But their actions have also created new complications for the Founder and CEO of Northern Industries. Dr. Stark was sedated because of the multiple panic attacks brought on by the way the police handled her. Only this morning was Dr. Stark able to fully come off of the sedative medications. Currently, she is resting and trying to restart her recovery that was so violently stopped and set back by those who claim to protect and serve this city. There is no further information at this time about specific injuries.

“Allow me to repeat myself just this once: other specific details concerning Dr. Stark’s current state, her condition and poor health prior to her arrest, or the reasons for Dr. Stark being admitted into the hospital in the first place, will not be disclosed at this time or in the near future. Any and all pressuring by the public or the media on her friends, family, and coworkers for the details concerning the arrest and her case that are not of public record, the incident in question, or her condition past as it has now been publicly released, will be ignored or handled as necessary through the proper channels; including through either Jenny or myself or, in the course of the law, through Dr. Stark and Major Chief Commander Clegane’s lawyers.”

Keira paused and looked around the vultures as they prepared to descend, sensing the end of her statement nearing. The PR rep steeled her back and stated, “As I have reiterated multiple times, a breech in privacy for any of these individuals and their families will be handled to the fullest extent of the law and with no remorse. This is a hard and sensitive time for the Stark and Clegane families, and we ask for your consideration and well wishes. Thank you, I will take questions now.”

The deluge opened up as everyone began shouting their questions all at once.

“Ms. Leadbetter!”

“Why is Lady Bolton in the hospital?”

“When will we hear directly from the Starks, Boltons, or Cleganes?”

“Ms. Leadbetter!”

“You said self-defense! Does that mean Lord Bolton attacked his wife?”

“Lord Stark!”

“When did Mr. Clegane get married!”

“Lord Stark, what do you say to the victim’s family?”

“Lady Stark!”

“Are the pregnancy rumors true?”

“Are Mr. Clegane and Lady Bolton having an affair!”

“Ms. Leadbetter!”

“Does Mr. Clegane have any kids!”

“Is that why she killed her husband!”

“How did Lady Bolton kill her husband!”

“How long had she been planning the murder?”

“Where is Lady Bolton now?”

Jenny stepped forwards, shouting over nearly every reporter until the noise drifted off. “We will not be answering any of the questions that mis-identify Lord Stark’s sister. It’s _Doctor Stark_ and she has never taken Lord Bolton’s name in their five years of marriage. The proper titles you should be using for her are either Dr. Stark, Lady Stark, or Dr. Lady Stark. Furthermore, it is _Major Chief Commander Clegane_ , not Mr. Clegane.”

“How long has Bolton been having an affair with her bodyguard!”

Keira shook her head, grinding her teeth, and calmly avowed, “Since gossip instead of decent, intelligent questions are being offered this morning, and complete disdain and lack of respect for Dr. Stark and Major Chief Commander Clegane and their position and titles seems to be prevailing today, we will end the press conference here. Thank you for your time and the privacy you will allow this family.”

The questions once again were flung at them. But the security team ushered Lord and Lady Stark to the side where they followed a short path down to a waiting SUV, the doors open and engines running. Jenny, Keira, and the lawyers followed them into their own respective waiting cars. The horde of reporters tried to follow, still shouting their questions, but they were held off by the hospital’s security. After only a few minutes the vehicles pulled away from the hospital and disappeared over the crest in the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I know it has been almost 6 weeks since I last posted, but shit's been crazy. The intense pain I've been suffering for the past almost four years was finally diagnosed when I went to the ER shortly after the last chapter was posted: turns out I had a 9x5mm kidney stone that was bouncing between my kidney and my ureter (the tube connecting your kidney to your bladder). A week after my Er visit, I had surgery to remove the stone - because at that size it is impossible to pass on its own (hence the pain). No worries though, the surgery utilized pre-existing plumbing (as Mr. LWB likes to say) so I have no incision sites and recover was less than two days. A week after that, I had the stent removed from my ureter (to prevent it from swelling shut and killing my kidney). I'm 5 weeks post-op and I feel AMAZING. Zero pain.  
> Woo! No pain! Why haven't we gotten a chapter sooner than that? Good question. Two reason. One, I've been stumped and second guessing myself on this story and struggling to write it. Two, int he last couple of days of June, I was hit with another bout of Viral Vertigo; essentially, the crystals in my inner ear have misaligned (not due to COVID19) and it causes extreme vertigo. After three days of not eating and being unable to keep anything solid or liquid down, I went to the ER again for fluids and IV nausea medications. All in all I spent almost a week in bed, unable to open my eyes. A week later now, I'm not driving but I am not dizzy either. But I got my writing bug back! So it's coming along slowly but surely.
> 
> We hit 120k words today! Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! What suggestions do you have? What predictions do you have? Where do you think the story is going? What are you dying to know?
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	19. Count Backwards from Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa get's a sponge bath while Sandor seethes at the press before going in to surgery. Sansa asks Sandor about his past injuries and he ends up telling her about is time in the Riverlands during the Civil War. 7128 words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on _Innocence_ : Lord and Lady Stark appear with their PR staff and security for a press conference on the front steps of the hospital.

“Knock knock,” a thick Northern – North of the Wall that is – called out as the door opened.

“Come in!” Jey answered cheerfully as she straightened Robb’s hair for at least the fifth time in nearly as many minutes.

Jey had returned to the hospital a couple of hours before and her eyes were bloodshot despite her pristine outfit. Sandor overheard her telling Robb, while Sansa still slept, that she had had to explain almost everything to Bender the night before. That his Uncle Ramsey was dead ( _not that they were close, Bolton was only around the Starks when it made him look good_ , Sandor bitterly thought) and the police are accusing Aunsansa of killing him; that more than ever now, B had to be careful with who he spoke to, that he should speak with only people he already knew, and if a stranger was bothering him or his friends, he needed to call his mother straight away; that he was going to have to have a bodyguard follow him around, just like Sandor follows Aunsansa around; that papa’s nose was broken by the police and that Sandor’s knee was hurt too, but Aunsaunsa is okay and Aunary is staying in the hospital with them.

“I just couldn’t tell him about Arya, Robb, I couldn’t,” Jey had whispered, frantically wiping her eyes yet again on her handkerchief.

Ygritte Wyld stepped into the room in a blaze of bright green eyes and flashing red hair – not unsimilar to Sansa’s. “I hope I’m not late! Parking is a bitch out there.”

“Already?” Jey asked.

“Huge crowd already,” she confirmed.

“Why are you here?” Sansa blurted out, looking from Sandor, beside her and slightly behind, to Ygritte on the other side of the room.

The Free Woman made the wise choice, deciding to wait on Sandor’s answer.

“She’s back from her assignment. And, unless you want me to bring Bronn back int—”

“No,” she snapped quickly.

“Then, while I’m laid up,” Sandor opened his palms up and motioned to his elevated leg, “I want an extra bodyguard present. Especially now that word has gotten out.”

“Do you…” Sansa pulled her long sleeve cuffs over her knuckles and bunched them in her fists. Fear oozed from every enunciation when she asked, “Is he coming for me?”

Sandor sighed, shaking his head and slid hand down Sansa’s hair. When he reached her back, she leaned into his touch. “No, love, he’s not coming for you. Would you feel better if she stayed or if she went back to the Broken Tower?”

Sansa paused, holding Ygritte’s stare. “Yes."

“Which one San—” Robb began but Ygritte cut him off by walking further into the room and dropping a duffle bag on the armchair.

“I’m assuming that the mob outside is the reason you’re dressing up, m’Lord – despite the swollen face?” she asked him.

Robb groaned but nodded.

“We have a press conference,” Jey told her. “We’re just waiting on, oh! Look, here he is.”

The mug of tea in Sansa’s hands slipped from her grasp, spilling tea all over the bed. Sandor sat up and cupped her cheek, trying to turn her away from Robb’s doctor. The heartrate monitor spiked. It started beeping loudly and the doctor turned to walk over and check it out, but Ygritte was quickly in front of him, a hand on his chest.

“That’s far enough, doc,” she instructed. “Dr. Stark is very uncomfortable with you in the room. Please conduct your business and be on your way.”

“Of course, my apologies,” he said, stepping back towards the door.

“What’s the word, Doctor?” Jey asked him.

“Lord Stark, you have as clean of a bill of health as you can claim, all things considering. You’re free to go. Take it easy. No heavy lifting – children included. Lots of rest and lots of fluids. Ice your nose when it starts to throb and call if you have any questions or concerns. The rest of the discharge information you’ve already received from my nurse, correct?” His sentences were short and clipped, said as succinctly as possible.

“Yeah,” Robb replied.

“Then I’ll see you in a week for a follow-up.” With that, the doctor turned on his heal and was out the door.

Ygritte turned around and grabbed a towel from a shelf to begin mopping up the spill. “You a’right, boss?”

Sansa nodded and Sandor dropped his hand.

“Honey, would you please stop fussing?” Robb whined. Jey was straightening his clothes. Again.

“I’m _sorry_ if I’m a nervous wreck right now,” she nearly spat. “I don’t know what to do with myself and just sitting demurely with my hands in my lap, waiting to be collected, will not be possible. So let me fuss!”

Sandor cleared his throat and offered, “Why don’t you go check on the Little Wolf?”

Robb pounced on the suggestion. “That’s a good idea. That way you can update Keira and the team to adjust the statement if anything has changed.”

“Fine,” she huffed and left, but not before giving Robb’s hair one more run through with her fingers.

“Where _is_ Arya?” Sansa asked Sandor, turning her head to look at him. “I haven’t seen her…well since I don’t know when.”

“Since before the arrest,” Sandor told her.

Her eyes opened wide. “Is she in jail!”

“No, but she got a concussion similar to Robb. She’s in her own room.”

“Now that Robb is going home, can Arya come in here?” she wondered, filled with hope.

“We’ll ask her doctors,” Sandor promised. “I really can’t answer that.”

“Okay,” she nodded, accepting his truthful yet vague answer.

Another knock on the door came and Sansa grabbed Sandor’s hand, squeezing it. Ygritte walked over and stuck her head out the door. Muffled voices conversed. Ygritte turned around, shutting the door. “Lord Stark, they’ll be ready for you any minute.”

“Thanks,” Robb said and sat in a chair next to the bed, next to Sansa.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay?” Robb asked for the millionth time, reaching out to hold her leg. “I can fake feint if you want me to spend another day with you.”

Sansa leaned back against the pillows, contemplating his offer. Finally, she shook her head, “The lawyers _and_ your PR team say a public appearance needs to be made sooner than later. I won’t…I can’t do that. You,” Sansa cupped her brother’s cheek, rubbing her thumb over his two-day-old stubble, “Robby, you need to represent your sisters. Because we can’t. And because you’re the head of House Stark. It would be daddy, but...”

“I know,” Robb said, giving her his signature half smile. “I just don’t want to leave you – especially after what happened. I have to be here. To protect you.”

Sansa chuckled at that. “I have Sandor, Robby. And Ygritte now too. I have a feeling I’ll be fine.”

“You’re probably right,” he sighed.

Jey opened the door. “They’re ready for us, honey.”

“But come visit me tomorrow?” Sansa said hastily as Robb stood.

He leaned in and gave his sister a prolonged kiss on her hairline. “Of course, I will.”

Robb gave Sandor a curt nod and allowed his wife to pull him from the room by the hand.

Bess, Sansa’s other nurse, appeared moments later. “Time for your sponge bath, Dr. Stark.”

“Now?” Sansa wondered.

Even Sandor raised his eyebrow. The timing was too perfect. He figured that Jey had probably planned the whole thing to keep Sansa occupied during the press conference; he would have done the exact same thing.

Bess smiled and shrugged, “I don’t make the schedule. I just follow my orders.”

“But—”

“Go on,” Sandor insisted. “I’ll still be here when you get back.”

“The press—”

“I’ll tell you how it goes,” he promised. “Go on Little Bird, you’ll feel much better after a make-shift shower and a change of clothes.”

“I’ll help,” Ygritte said. She held out her hand to aid Sansa in standing up. “We’ll make it go faster.”

“You don’t have to. It’s not your job,” Sansa mumbled, but still accepted the help, standing.

“Nonsense. Bronn told me that boss wants me around to help in any way I can, that you’re comfortable with,” Ygritte said as they took slow but sure steps towards the bathroom. Bess followed them with a shower caddy on her arm.

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Sansa asked as she stepped into the bathroom.

The last thing that Sandor could hear before the door closed was Ygritte replying with, “Yes. Your Westerman has the heart of a Northman or even a Free Man, if I dare say so.”

Sandor watched the press conference on his phone from the bed, his leg propped up. He turned it off when the coverage returned to the commentators and they began their speculation. He didn’t want to hear any more of that shit – he’d heard enough from the questions that were screamed at Robb and Jey.

 _Vultures, the fucking lot of them_ , he thought, looking up at the ceiling.

“Sandor?” Sansa’s voice pulled Sandor from his thoughts.

He looked towards the closed bathroom door. “I’m still here, Little Bird.”

“Is it on yet?”

“Just finished,” he confirmed.

“Oh,” her disappointment hung palpably in the air. “I wanted to see what was said.”

“No, you didn’t, love,” Sandor assured her. “You read Keira’s notes. The important bits were covered.”

“What did they—" there was a grunt and a gasp, silencing Sansa.

“Little Bird? Sansa?” he called out while internally cursing his damned leg as he sat up suddenly. If he could, he would be standing at the door, his hands on the frame, his ear against the door. “Little Bird, what’s wrong?”

“We’re just changing bandages after a sponge bath and had a bit too much pressure on a rib,” Ygritte replied calmly. A few moments later she added, “She wants to know what they said about her. The reporters, I think she means.”

Sandor took a deep breath, licking his lips. That’s what he didn’t want Sansa to know about. Every instinct he had told him to protect her, to keep the truth from her. Not _lie,_ per say…

“Boss,” Sandor looked over to see Ygritte’s head poking out of the bathroom and a mocking glare on her face. Then she grinned, “Dr. S. says to glare at you until you tell her.”

“Tell her to glare herself,” he huffed.

“She’s half naked right now. So that’s not going to happen.”

Sandor sighed. “Fine.” He raised his voice to carry further, “Are you sure you want to know, Sansa?”

“Yes.” The response was strained, grunted; probably through clenched teeth.

“Alright then,” Sandor closed his eyes. “The bloodsuckers insisted on calling you ‘Lady Bolton’ and liked to jump to some bloody ridiculous conclusions.”

“Like what?” Sansa asked, hissing at the same time. “That fucking _hurts._ ”

“Sansa?”

“Just getting dressed now,” Ygritte clarified. “She wants you to continue. What conclusions did they jump to?

“Just them making assumptions that Ra…” Sandor caught himself, “that his death was premeditated. Them wondering how long you and I have been having an affair. Them wondering where my mystery wife and children are. Them assuming that Robb knew about what you were going to do.” Sandor clenched his fists and looked back up at the ceiling. There wasn’t much else he could do. “The usual guesses and shit.”

“Us?” Sansa chuckled, shuffling through the door on Ygritte’s arm. Sandor didn’t like how pale her face was. “Having an affair? Don’t be silly.”

“Like I said, the usual shit.”

“Well you guys _are_ chummy,” Ygritte commented as she eased Sansa back into the bed next to Sandor. Both of them glared at the woman from Beyond the Wall. She shrugged. “Take a look around you. You’re sharing a hospital bed!”

“That’s because—”

Ygritte held up her hand to silence Sansa. “I don’t need to know why. And I know that it’s not true. But you have got to admit, it’s not a big leap to make.”

“Why are you here again?” Sansa snapped, clearly perturbed.

Sandor sighed and made an apologetic face to his employee behind Sansa’s back. He could tell this was going to be an anger day for Sansa.

She continued, “Suddenly you were here. I didn’t bring you in.”

“We’ve been over this: I called her in, love, and she came in the middle of the night because she’s used to being on a night shift,” Sandor replied. “She brought me somethings I needed. Besides, I’m a little useless right now, as you can see. Ygritte is the perfect stand in for me. She can help you get around and she can help you in the bathroom.”

“Fine,” Sansa growled. She picked up the book that Jey had brought her that morning and opened it angrily. Ygritte settled into the chair and Sandor watched Sansa read.

The minutes ticked away slowly into hours until a light knock on the door startled Sandor from his nap. Bess came in pushing a wheelchair.

“Alrighty Mr. Clegane,” she said cheerfully, “It’s time to fix that knee of yours and head to pre-op.”

“What? Now!” The book fell from Sansa’s fingers to the floor as she reached for Sandor’s hand. She squeezed him tight. “I’m not ready. You can’t take him yet!”

Sandor pulled Sansa into his arms, turning her to her face to his chest. He tried to be gentle but still used his strength against her. “I have to. Besides, it’s just for a few hours, love, and then I _will_ be back. I promise.”

“But people die in surgery!”

“I won’t.”

“You can’t promise that,” she said, shaking.

Sandor could feel her breathing quicken. He sighed and pulled her away just far enough to hold his hands on either side of her face; his palms on her jaw bones and his fingers splaying around her ears and into her hair; wanting to take up her entire field of vision, to become her world. He stared at her blue, oh so blue eyes as they searched his for assurance and comfort. “Aye, you’re right. People do die in surgery and I can’t promise I won’t die. But it’s very unlikely, okay? I’m healthy, it’s just my knee, and they’re the best doctors north of the Gods Eye. I also have something else that other people don’t.” He paused for effect and she waited with bated breath for him to continue. “I have you to come back to, love.”

She swallowed hard. “Just a few hours?”

Sandor nodded, “I should be back just after you eat dinner. If it takes longer, that’s not a bad thing. No news is good news. But I _will_ be back, okay?”

Sansa closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his. “Okay.”

“I have some people to help move you, Sandor, cause the Drowned God knows I can’t do it myself,” Bess said, beckoning to the door. Two attendants, two _men,_ walked into the room.

Sandor froze and kept his grip on Sansa’s face. “Close your eyes, Little Bird.”

Sansa listened and did as he said but asked, “Why?”

“I don’t want you to see me get moved,” he said. Sansa nodded against his face. But when he spoke, her eyes opened and stared at him with fear; complete trust but also fear. “Ygritte, Sansa needs your help.”

Ygritte move to the side of the bed just as the first man appeared in Sansa’s peripheral.

“No! No! Get away! Leave me alone!” she screamed, trying to pull away from him despite Sandor holding her. Her fingers gripped at his shirt; her newly trimmed nails digging into his skin. “No! Please!”

“Sansa! Sansa! Look at me,” he begged, desperate. “Look at me, love. Look at me and not them. Forget about them, Little Bird. They’re not here for you, I promise. Sansa, love, please,” his voice cracked, “look at me.”

Tears trailed from her eyes and onto his hands as she tore her eyes away from the men with considerable effort. Her eyes searched his, silently asking him if he had brought them in; silently asking if he had betrayed her. It stung. It hurt that she could even think that he might do that to her. But Sandor couldn’t blame her either. Her reactions were as much a shock response from the trauma as it was an unrealistic question about him.

Sandor kissed her forehead then her nose. “No, love, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t do that to you.” He kissed her cheek. “But I promise they won’t touch you or I’ll personally snap their fucking hands off.” Sandor kissed her other cheek, the one that had the deeply embedded shard of glass. “They’re here because I’m a big fucker. I’m tall and I’m not light. It was hard enough to get me into the bed that Bess needs help getting me out. She may be Iron Born but that doesn’t mean she can lift me. Okay? I…” Sandor kissed her forehead again fiercely, his lips lingering on her skin for a moment. He didn’t know what else he could do for her. “The men, they’ll get me in the damned wheelchair and then they will leave the room, I promise. They’ll leave and you’ll never have to see them every again. Then you can wish me luck.”

Sansa shook her head no when Sandor started to pull away; her arms extended out, reaching for him. A sob slipped from her lips as Ygritte gently wrapped her arms around Sansa, pulling her back against her chest and holding her in place. Sansa’s hands flew to her mouth as the men shifted Sandor from the bed and into the wheelchair. But he never dropped his eyes from Sansa’s. Not once. He had to. When Sandor was comfortable enough, despite the incredible ache in his leg, the men straightened. Sansa jumped at their movement; a yelp escaping her throat. Ygritte flexed to keep Sansa in place.

“Sansa? Sansa look at me, love, they’re leaving. Ignore them,” Sandor repeated, over and over while the men paused. They looked to and waited for instructions from Bess. The nurse nodded and murmured for them to wait outside.

When they were gone, Bess pushed Sandor around to Sansa’s side of the bed. Ygritte helped Sansa turn in the bed. He leaned forwards as she laid down and took her hands in his, squeezing. “See? You’re safe.” He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “You’re safe. I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You’ll never see them again – or any other man if you don’t want to. I promise.” He kissed her knuckles again then reached out to cup her cheek and wipe her tears. “Oh, Sansa-love, please don’t cry too much.”

“What’s wrong with me?” she whimpered into his palm.

“Nothing,” he said firmly, squeezing her hand. “Absolutely fucking nothing, you hear? You’re alive and you’re strong and you’re safe. Okay? You. Are. Safe. Even if I’m not here. But Ygritte is. She’s here for me. Ygritte is at your every beck and call, until I get back. I trust her with my life. She won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Sansa nodded hesitantly. Sandor gave her hands one last squeeze and a kiss before Bess rolled him into the hall. He could hear her muffled sobs as he left.

Once the door was shut, Sandor pointed a finger at Bess and said, “you fucking figure out another way to get me back in bed when this is all done. If it takes half of the hospital’s women, so be it. I don’t want another fucking man in her room that isn’t me or her brother, you got that?”

“Of course,” Bess said hurriedly, flushing pink. “Alran and Harry here will take you to surgery. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. No men in Dr. Stark’s room.”

Sandor only nodded his head once. He had nothing left to say to her.

One of the men – he didn’t care which one – took the handles of his chair and began pushing him out of the ward. The two men made small talk. Sandor didn’t. He didn’t mind either, as long as they didn’t try to engage him in conversation. In the elevator, he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself.

He’d had surgery plenty of times before. One too many wounds in war. One too many wars. And this was to help him heal faster to be better for Sansa. So surgery was his option. Studies had shown that those who went into the operating theater calm and optimistic had better outcomes and faster recovery times. Knowing that he had to get back to Sansa, Sandor steadied his breathing. He cleared his mind. His heartrate dropped and Sandor felt like had when he was lining up a shot. Calm and confident.

They crossed the hospital and entered the pre-op room. A hairnet was placed around both his scalp and his chin. A hospital gown was tied in place around his body after stripping him off his shirt, shorts, and socks. IV injections were placed on his wrist and on his forearm. The curtain was drawn around his bed and a nurse gave him a catheter. Sandor growled choice words for that _sadistic_ woman, though she didn’t seem to take them personally. The surgeon came to speak with him, though Sandor couldn’t remember the conversation if he tired.

After a round of blood cultures came back – all clear and in normal ranges – Sandor was pushed into the operating room. A handful of personnel lifted the sheet he was laying on and transferred him onto the operating table. Monitors were hooked up to his skin and drapes were erected around his body. Someone asked if he was comfortable. When he nodded, they placed a cushioned mask over his mouth and nose. They told him to count backwards from ten, but he knew better. Sandor took a deep breath. The sweet painless sleep creeped into his chest and the blackness started to appear on the outside of his vision. He closed his eyes and took one..last…deep….

When Sandor woke up, he was back in Sansa’s room. This time he was in what had been Robb’s bed. His leg ached but the pain was nothing that it was before he fell asleep. It was propped up by supports. He had a thick bandage around it and, just to see if he could, Sandor wiggled his toes. They moved as he willed the too. A sigh a relief escaped unbidden from his lips. He continued to take stock of his surroundings and noted that Sansa wasn’t in her bed. The bathroom door was open, and the light was off. Panic creeped into his chest, just as the anesthesia had.

“Don’t you mind her now,” a woman said. Sandor saw Dr. Apperford checking his chart and looking at the machines that surrounded him.

“Where…” his throat was dry.

Dr. Apperford passed him a cup of ice chips. She allowed him a few before setting the cup back on the table next to his bed. “Dr. Liddle and I figured it would be a good time to start Sansa on her physical therapy. Chesha, her therapist, and the other woman with her—”

“Ygritte, the red head?”

“Yes. Chesha and Ygritte took Sansa around the ward for a walk. I think they also went into the private gardens.”

“Why?”

“Bess told us what happened when you went in for surgery – she knows that she should have known better, should have predicted what might happen. But we still needed Alran and Harry to get your drugged up, limp ass back into the bed,” she explained, folding her hands across her chest. “Bess feels terrible about causing Sansa panic. PT was her suggestion. We told Sansa if she went for a walk, that you’d be back when she returned.”

“You’re always the fucking hero when you orchestrate your own prophecy,” Sandor laughed dryly.

Dr. Apperford shrugged, “I try. Now it’s time to talk about you. For at least the next 24 hours, you’ll have to sleep solo, in your own bed. After that, we’ll see how you’re doing.”

“What’s my recovery time?”

“Your knee was not nearly as bad as we thought it would be when we got in there,” she replied by way of explanation. “You’ll heal up nicely in no time.”

“Weeks? Months?”

“I don’t want you putting weight on it for a week, maybe ten days. Then we’ll talk.”

“How long will I be in here?”

“Normally I’d say you could go home tomorrow. But, since you will not go anywhere without Sansa, I suspect you’ll be here until she is released.”

“Any clue on when that will be, doc?”

Dr. Apperford pulled on a stool and sat down. “I’ll be frank with you, Sandor.”

“Thank you.”

“Prior to yesterday morning events in the waiting room, I would have suspected that Sansa could have gone home later this week at the latest.”

“But?” There was always a “but”.

“Sansa was restless during your surgery. Very restless. Ygritte had a time trying to keep her distracted. Dr. Liddle wanted to stay away from prescribing her any more medication. Instead she used the opportunity to get more scans tests run.” Dr. Apperford looked down at her tablet and nodded. “She had tests done on Saturday and those looked really good. However, we now know that the police made things worse, for sure.”

“How much worse?”

“They exacerbated her rib fractures. Dr. Liddle is concerned that if Sansa were to move in the wrong way too soon, the bones might break more or even off and cause more internal damage than we want to deal with.”

“Did she have internal damage from the assault?”

“Nothing beyond internal bruising. No bleeding or organ lacerations. But the bruising means her organs might more easily be penetrated or damaged now. However, none of the glass that I pulled out of her in the ER went deep enough to cause serious or lasting damage,” she replied. “Now some of those lacerations were reopened in the struggle. None of the stitches tore and none have had to be replaced. But the reopening does mean they will scar worse than they would have before.”

“Did you document everything? For the lawyers? For if she goes to trial?”

“Of course.”

Sandor took a deep breath and forced his shoulders to relax, his jaw to unclench. “Good.”

“We also took photos of your injuries too.”

“Good,” Sandor said.

“Sansa did have a dislocated shoulder after the arrest but that shouldn’t cause any issues. It was popped back into place and she’ll likely be sore from it for a few days.”

“So why can’t she go home this weekend?”

“Partly because of the state of her ribs,” Dr. Apperford admitted. “And partly because there is concern over her mental stability.”

Sandor nodded, holding his blink longer than normal. “I’m not surprised.”

“How long?”

“I’ve only known since Saturday. Jey’s suspected for years.”

“Lady Stark was the one who brought the concern to our attention.”

“She did?” Sandor raised his brow in surprise, looking at Dr. Apperford.

“Don’t be upset with Lady Stark, please. She places absolutely no blame on you – quite the opposite actually. She commends your help for the past five years. But she’s scared for her sister by law and concerned for her family. She was right to confide in us. Sansa needs help.”

“I know,” Sandor whispered.

“And now that her instability has compounded from the assault and subsequent altercation with the police,” she said, confirming Sandor’s fears, “it is safer for her to remain in observation. Her reaction towards Alran and Harry are not _not_ ordinary for someone, who has been through what she has, to exhibit. However, with the previous history of depression and suicidal thoughts, we have consulted with the psychologist assigned to Dr. Stark, Dr. Faenyr; she was the one who tried to get Sansa to talk the other day when you were gone but who had no luck. Dr. Faenyr recommends that Sansa remain in hospital for at least another ten to fourteen days.”

“Is she being committed?”

“Absolutely not,” Dr. Apperford replied sternly. “This sort of situation is exactly what this ward was built and designed for. It’s for women, and men and children, who need a completely safe place to start to put themselves back together. When they need help, they come here. They stay for as long as they need and are allowed to leave whenever they wish, as long as it is medically safe to do so. Sometimes things lean towards needing to move to the psych ward for some patients. But most don’t. Sansa currently does not need more than just a secure place.”

“Then why two weeks?” Sandor wondered, rubbing his temple.

“Dr. Faenyr determined that to be the best recommendation at this time, based on certain diagnostic elements that Sansa has exhibited. If Sansa improves before then, then perhaps she’ll be released sooner. If it seems like she needs more time, we will give her more time here. There is no limit to how long someone needs professional, outside help. We will be here as long as she needs us to be,” Dr. Apperford explained. “Tomorrow she will start private therapy sessions. If she is up for it, Dr. Faenyr wants to also try to get her into group therapy at the end of the week. Of course, Chesha will be in twice a day to get Sansa moving around and helping that shoulder heal. She’ll also be around tomorrow evening to start getting you moving a bit too.”

“What am I supposed to do in all of this time?”

“We – Dr. Liddle, Dr. Faenyr, Jey, and I – all agree that it is important to Sansa to keep you around. It is very unorthodox for this ward, even for the hospital. But all parties have agreed that it is in the best interest of both patients,” she explained. “We recognize that there was an incredible sense of trust and safety between you two prior to the assault. You were also the one to find her, to _save_ her, as she sees it. That is an added layer of comfort that Dr. Faenyr says is critical in helping Sansa first cope with everything that has happened, and then heal and move on from it. We’ll keep you two in this room for as long as Sansa needs to be here. Besides,” Dr. Apperford grinned with a glint in her eye, “with you here at the hospital, I can keep an extra close eye on you – to make sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard.”

“Jey and Robb think that it’s almost a good thing for Sansa to fuss over me.”

Dr. Apperford laughed lightly, “Yes, it probably is. To take her mind off of the matter at hand. I suppose there might also be a little bit of the old saying “learn by doing”. Helping you heal physically may encourage her to heal physically and mentally.”

“Will it give her hope? Help her hold on?”

“Possibly. With the connection the two of you have, I’d say almost definitely.”

“Then I suspect you won’t have to worry about _me_ pushing myself too hard.”

“Why is that?” she asked, standing.

“Have you ever heard anything about Dr. Sansa Stark?” Sandor wondered rhetorically. “She is one of the most competitive fucking people I have ever met. There is a reason she’s the top of her field and one of the most successful businesswomen and philanthropists in Westeros. She may very well turn this into a competition between us. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Well, as long as she’s pushing you to get better, and you’re pushing her, and neither of you are pushing the other too hard, I can’t see why this is a problem,” Dr. Apperford smiled, patting his arm. “I’ll come check on you later tonight Sandor.”

“Oh, Dr. Apperford?” Sandor called out as she turned to leave the room. She paused and waited for him to continue. “Ygritte will be around all the time too. While I am out of commission and Arya is still…out, Sansa needs another person.”

“Do you believe she is still in danger?”

“No, not directly anymore. Ramsey is dead. But I don’t want to take any chances. The media,” Sandor sighed. Everything would be so much easier if he didn’t have to deal with his fucking bum leg. “Even though Sansa hired me because Ramsey was pushing for her to get a personal bodyguard, it turned out to be a good idea. She’s loved and hated – she’s a very successful businesswoman. She has had her share of hate mail and threats. Nothing that wasn’t handled promptly and appropriately, but it was enough to warrant my presence. And now that the media has the story of the year and it involves the North’s favorite daughter…. Ygritte will be around until I determine otherwise. At least while I can’t do anything.”

“I understand,” Dr. Apperford replied kindly. “We’ve already beefed up security here at the hospital. This ward is secure as it is. Plus, you’ve placed one of your guys on the pass doors. Sansa is safe here, Sandor.

“When I’m more independently on my feet, maybe I can back down the paranoia. In the meantime, though, Ygritte is here.”

“I don’t see why that would be an issue. I’ll have another key card made for her.” The doctor looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Sansa! Don’t you look exhausted. Even a little pink in the cheeks. Did you have a good walk?”

“I’m tired.” Her voice made Sandor’s blood sing. He nodded to himself, she’s still okay. “Who were you talking to Dr. Apperford?”

“Your Sandor.”

“He’s here!” Sansa turned the corner and froze, staring at him. Ygritte held her right elbow and Sansa held the wall with her left. “Sandor,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling.

“Told you I’d be back, Little Bird.”

Sansa nodded to Ygritte and took determined steps to his bedside. She took his hand. When she kissed his knuckles her eyes glistened.

“I was just telling Sandor that he needs his own bed for the next 24 hours,” Dr. Apperford said, more to Ygritte than Sansa.

“Did it go okay? Are you in pain? Will you be out for long?”

Sandor cupped her face, smiling. “Doctor said it went great – better than expected. I’ll be here in hospital as long as you are. And no, sweet Little Bird, I’m not in pain. It feels better than it did before surgery.”

“You look tired,” she whispered, studying his face.

“Just the meds, I suspect.”

Dr. Apperford grinned at him and nodded before slipping from the room. The door clicked shut behind her quietly.

“Did you cave and get Milk of the Poppy?”

Sandor shrugged, “I don’t know what they gave me. But doctors always have to give you the good stuff after surgery.”

“Sansa,” Ygritte said, “Why don’t you take a seat in the chair? That way you’re still next to him but you can rest as well. We did a long walk.”

“Sit, love, and tell me about your walk,” Sandor encouraged. “If I close my eyes, I’m still listening.”

Sansa grunted as she eased into the chair that Ygritte pushed over to the bedside. It was angled so that she could still hold his hand. She laced their fingers together and Sandor sighed in content.

“Have you had a lot of surgeries, Sandor?” Sansa wondered.

“A few,” he replied, staring at their joined hands.

“Tell me about them?”

“Alright.” Sandor cleared his throat. “I don’t remember how many I had when I got burned but there were quite a few. The welfare system covered all of the basic necessities, but my parents were too poor to afford reconstructive surgery. That’s why I’m stuck with the mug I’ve got.”

“You were so young. That’s a terrible childhood. I wish I could change it.”

“Don’t go upsetting yourself now, love. You already knew about my burns.”

“I can still be sad for you,” she sniffled.

“Aye, I suppose I can’t stop you from feeling your feelings, now can I?” he agreed.

“What about your leg?”

“You know this story too.”

“Tell me again.”

“I was in the Army. That’s where I got all of my other surgeries. The bullet wounds and the chunk of thigh muscle they cut out.”

“You were shot!”

“Of course, Little Bird. They sent me into the worst zones of the war. Where do you think all of my scars came from?”

“When I was younger,” Sansa admitted, “I always figured you’d gotten drunk and in a pub brawl.”

Sandor barked out a laugh, “Aye, I’ve had my fair share of those. But the worse injuries were from my service.”

“I can’t believe what we put people through,” she muttered, squeezing his hand.

“The civil war was no cake walk,” Sandor admitted. Then it donned on him, “Did I ever tell you, Little Bird, that I was on a mission with your sister when I took the wound in the thigh?”

Sansa’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “But she was so young!”

“It was after, well it was after your parents died,” he said, as gently as he could. “Your family was spread to the seven winds and she started training with the military. Why they let such a young woman train is beyond me.”

“That’s incredibly irresponsible,” Sansa huffed.

“Might be,” he agreed, “but shit was different then, especially in the Riverlands. We trained together with the Brotherhood without Banners. At some—”

“That was only a tale. They didn’t truly exist,” Sansa corrected him.

“That’s what the King wanted the country to believe,” he insisted. “But the Little Wolf was with them for a while. Me? I only stayed a short bit before we got sent on a mission, to find your lady mother.”

Sandor cracked open an eye and saw that Sansa was hanging on her every word. How he had never told her this part of the story, this part of his and Arya’s complicated past history and relationship, was beyond him.

“I can’t believe that the BWB were _real_ ,” Sansa murmured under her breath.

“Aye, real people. I’ll tell you more about them another time. But shortly after the Little Wolf and I set out, they fell apart. Without much to turn back to, Arya and I continued on. We missed your mother at Riverrun, and we were hours too late at the Twins.”

“She was _there?_ ” Sansa gasped.

“Not inside,” Sandor insisted. He realized that they were traversing a fine line on any given day for his Little Bird – and with her current state, he wasn’t sure how much he should keep talking. But she was calm; enraptured with his story, so he continued. “We saw the slaughter outside. Had to knock her unconscious with the butt of my rifle to keep her from outing herself and getting herself killed. She woke up a day later when we were far from the massacre. Tried taking her to your aunt in the Eyrie. Missed her by a couple of days too.”

“Sandor!” Sansa exclaimed.

His eyes popped open again. “What is it?”

“I was _there_!”

“Where?”

“I was in the Eyrie when Aunt Lysa was ki—, when Aunt Lysa died! I saw it happen!”

“Was that where you had been hiding?” he wondered.

Westeros knew that Sansa Stark had received her business degree from the Vale branch of the prestigious Braavosi university. But until her graduation day, no one had heard from her or seen her since King’s Landing, years before. All she had ever told Sandor was that she’d graduated from Kingswood College to go on to the Vale. There was a five-year gap between those events that she rarely spoke about.

“Yes! Oh, you were so close!” she lamented. “If only we had known. I would have left the university in a heartbeat to be with you and my sister.”

“We were in no fit state to be around you,” Sandor admitted gruffly. “With no group backing us anymore, we were rogue outlaws. Besides, it wasn’t long after that when we ended up in a fire fight with some Lannister men.”

Sansa gasped.

“I took the bullet in the thigh and your sister tried her best to care for me. But it got infected and she left me to die.”

“She used to mutter about how she thought you were dead,” Sansa whispered. “How did you live?”

“Some soldiers at Camp Quiet Isle found me. Nursed be back to health. Had multiple surgeries.” Sandor shrugged, “that’s where I got clean and sober and healed.”

“And from there you sought me out,” she concluded for him.

“Aye, and now we’re here.”

“I’m glad you lived, Sandor.”

“I’m glad I did too, Little Bird.”

After a while of quiet, Sansa peeped up, “Sandor?”

“Hmm?” he wondered, enjoying the numbness brought on by his IV and the feel of her hand in his.

“Tell me about the Westerlands?”

“It wasn’t a happy time,” he reminded her. “Just about as bad as the damned civil war.”

“No,” she said and Sandor could feel her shaking her head. “I mean, not your childhood. But tell me about the place. You’ve seen the North, and you’ve seen the Riverlands – as have I but as much as you; just enough to get a sense of the place. You’ve seen the outskirts of the Vale while I was intimate with nearly every corner of it. But I’ve never been to the Westerlands. What is it like?”

“They have hills that they call mountains,” Sandor began. He launched into telling Sansa about the mines and the farms and the summer festivals. At some point, Ygritte touched his shoulder and he looked up at her.

“Boss,” she whispered, nodding down next to him, “Dr. S. is asleep.”

“Cover her with a blanket for now,” Sandor asked, though it sounded like a command. “I’ll let the nurse move her back into bed.”

Ygritte nodded and pulled Sansa’s blanket from her bed. As she tucked it around The Boss’s shoulders, Sandor admitted out loud, “That’s the calmest and happiest I’ve seen her in a long time.”

“I ‘spect you’ll be tellin’ her lots of stories, boss,” Ygritte smiled.

“You’ll soon know more about me than you ever wanted to,” he challenged.

“I already do, boss,” Ygritte teased as she sat back in her armchair. “I already do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't LOVE this chapter but I kinda feel like it has to be written. I'm trying to get my mojo back and I feel like I'm shaking off the cob webs.
> 
> Thanks for the Kudos, Comments, and Subscriptions!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first SanSan piece and my first AGOT/ASOIAF piece. I love getting kudos and comments of any kind. Thanks for reading!


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